The Mile High City Affair
by sammie28
Summary: Magnificent 7 ATF / NCIS crossover. Denver has a big problem when the ATF's biggest cold case goes hot: a recently UA Marine sniper is Clayton Hopewell's newest assassin. Denver has an even bigger problem when the NCIS shows up to find the Marine...
1. Chapter 1

**The Mile High City Affair**  
by Sammie

**Disclaimer**: If I owned 'em, they'd be on TV EVERY DAY.   
Sean Harrison is from the short-lived "Hawaii"; the "TM7" ATF AU is Mog's; Michael Garcia, Brian Crowell, Rebekah Lawrence, and all the FBI agents but our beloved Tobias Fornell are mine. Ryan Kelly (and ATF Team 8) are borrowed with permission from Heather F.thank you!  
There are some lines from a whole variety of places. If you see your fic referenced obliquely, I'm sorryI don't mean to rip anybody off; your fic made such an impression it stuck.

**Summary**: Denver has a big problem when the ATF's biggest cold case goes hot: a recently UA Marine sniper is Clayton Hopewell's newest assassin. Denver has an even bigger problem when the NCIS shows up to find the Marine...

**Rating**: MPAA blah blah blah... Since we're not supposed to use their ratings, here's the rating/warning: there's some shooting, some shouting, a dead guy, Tony going through a woman's things, and Chris glaring. You decide what the rating should be.

**AN**: The story has been brewing (dying and resurrecting) for the last two years. It started as a "Without a Trace"/"TM7" crossover and sequel to "Stop the Press" (see, I tried!); the way it was going, I argue justifiable homicide for killing it. The only thing that's left over is that it's a crossover.

"NCIS" has made me miss the Seven more than any other show has (in a good way):

Grouchy, taciturn, once married ex-military team supervisors who play by their own rules, have "unconventional" ways of dealing with irritating things and people, relate well to traumatized children, and even do woodwork in their downtime. Big-hearted, ladies'-men ex-cops who take it upon themselves to break in the computer whiz new kids (the only ones with real social lives). A mix of humor and drama in a storyline gasp! and so on. The priceless sites I used to help me out (remove spaces between in the address):

_"TM7": www. blackraptor. net / m7fic / index.htm (transcripts, short bios)  
tidiap. tripod .com / begin.html (the "TM7" ATF AU story, bios) _

_"NCIS": www. ncisredstar .com (transcripts, character bios)  
www. cbs. com / primetime / ncis / index.shtml (CBS has a sense of humor; who knew. Click on the actor's bio, and there's a dossier for the corresponding character.) _

Besides, anybody who regularly uses the men from U.N.C.L.E. has to be pretty smart.

* * *

_click_ Gibbs was suddenly aware of a thin stream of light penetrating his sleep. He tried fuzzily to pinpoint its origin. A vague sense of déjà vu swept over him; this had all happened before...that's right, when wife 3 had clocked him over the head with a baseball bat. And when wife 2 went after him with a seven-iron. And -

A small voice reminded him that he was divorced. So what...? He opened his eyes.

_click_ "Good. You're not dead." Caitlin Todd pocketed Ducky's small penlight and straightened. "We've been trying to reach you for an hour. Tony was worried when I told him you weren't asleep under your boat." He scowled, and a small smile appeared on her face. "Peace offering?" she said hopefully, holding up a cup of coffee.

Gibbs acquiesced, sitting up and taking the cup from her. "What?"

Kate half-sat, half-leaned on his windowsill. "Marine sniper went UA from his base in Hawaii."

"UA? What did the MPs say?"

"Honolulu police department, MPs, and NCIS think he might be tied to an assassination cold case." Kate paused, looking around. "May I use your bathroom?"

"Second door on the left." Once she had gone, he got up to change. "What's with all the LEOs?"

"MPs were still searching his place when the PD and the FBI came in, so the MPs took them and the case to NCIS," came her voice over the running water.

Gibbs just frowned as he put on his holster. FBI? "Who at NCIS Hawaii contacted us?"

"Agent Owens called HQ early this morning. He caught Abby, who called up Tony and McGee when she couldn't reach you." Kate emerged from the bathroom and stood at the doorway to his room, scanning quickly. Her eyes fell on the landline receiver off the hook, and the cell phone in pieces on his desk. Giving him a half-chastising look, she picked it up. "Gibbs."

Gibbs just gave her a look, daring her to comment. Sighing, she pocketed the pieces carefully.

* * *

SAME TIME  
DENVER, CO

Ryan Kelly, ATF Team 8's supervising agent, glared at the ringing phone. It was four freakin' AM in the morning, and he and his team had been covering for Team 7 - the sale of small arms to Columbia. He had agreed to take the Moitinho case off Larabee's hands since they had a lot on their plate and could use the help.

Well, that and the fact that his own team was dying of boredom, evidenced by the Saran wrap on the toliet seat prank that had nailed his senior agent. Learned, of course, from Team 7.

The Larabee gang was out on the biggest bust this year, catching a gun-runner named Sutton. The final meeting had been rescheduled several times, and they were hoping this time it was for real. They were tired, and Standish had been in the cold for several months already.

_rrrrrrrriiiiiinnnngggg_ For a moment Kelly wished he were not so level-headed; pulling a Larabee and shooting the stupid thing looked like a particularly excellent idea at the moment.

He snatched the receiver, snarling "Kelly" and preparing to tell the caller off. He listened a moment, then sat up, totally awake now and in a much more conciliatory mood. "I'll talk to Travis right now."

* * *

NCIS HEADQUARTERS  
WASHINGTON, DC

"I have no idea," came Owens' voice over the teleconference call. "The MPs, Honolulu PD, the Denver FBI all come trooping into my office, asking where Gunnery Sergeant Michael Garcia was." The NCIS agent paused. "Sean Harrison - the PD detective in charge - told me privately that it might have something to do with an old ATF case."

"ATF?" Tony asked, and when he got a confirming nod from Owens, he murmured to Kate, "Let's hope this doesn't go the way of the last case we had with them."

"What is this, the annual interagency cooperation party?" Gibbs muttered.

Owens took a deep breath. "According to Harrison, the Denver ATF still have a huge open case. The former governor of Colorado, Clayton Hopewell, is suspected of trying to knock off some of his political opponents before the last election."

"You're kidding," Tony said in disbelief. "I thought that went out of style in the US years ago."

"There was no hard evidence, so they couldn't pin him down, but it was bad enough that Hopewell was voted out of office. He retired to Hawaii. The ATF team supervisor called in a personal favor with Harrison to ask 'em to keep an eye on the governor while he was down there."

"What does this have to do with our UA Marine?" Gibbs asked pointedly.

"Garcia disappeared four days ago, and when the MPs were looking for clues, they found a tape of one of the governor's cronies handing Garcia a large sum of money. Few days later, he flew out - in a ticket paid in cash - although he didn't have leave time. Harrison checked the airport cameras - it's Garcia. Flight attendants on the flight recognized him, although he was traveling under an alias." Owens sighed. "Mostly, though, we're going on the fact that the FBI are overly interested in the case. They know stuff we don't."

"What did they want?" Kate asked, puzzled.

"All the info on Garcia AND for Harrison to keep it hush. So, of course, he called the ATF and then came to us." There were chuckles at that.

"Didn't you just say this was an ATF case?" Gibbs asked. "Where are they?"

"This 'interagency cooperation party' happened within the last 40 hours. Harrison contacted the ATF and was told that the team was closing a bust and wouldn't be in until later this morning. He's still working it while the secondary ATF team on the case contacts their director."

"What does Garcia do?" McGee asked.

"He's a sniper. The governor hired snipers for his job the last time."

"Any other information on the case?"

Owens shook his head apologetically. "Sorry. I sent Abby Garcia's laptop as soon as we got it - it went overnight, so she's got it now - and what notes we have. That's it."

"OK, we'll take it from here." With that, Gibbs ended the telecom connection. "Abs, what did you get from his laptop?"

"Tons. It's like he downloaded every article having to do with the Hopewell case," Abby replied. "I gave that all to McGee. But here's the big whoop."

"So whoop us."

Abby typed in a command, bringing up a large, virtual map onto the flat-screen in her lab. "There are several maps on the laptop, of specific areas in Denver. They're all like this one, 3-D rotational."

Kate stepped forward, narrowing her eyes a little at the map. "Abby, could you slow the turning a little bit?" The ex-Secret Service agent watched carefully as the map spun slowly, then shook her head as she turned to her colleagues. "The map's a sniper's dream. It helps with vantage points: choosing positions, sweep of the area, what obstructions would be there. He's a serious sniper."

Gibbs nodded "McGee. Tell me about the articles."

"Not a whole lot of specifics, just that people were guessing Hopewell had tried to off some of his opponents. Most papers won't even say that, because Hopewell was pretty fast to sue the ATF team for implying he had anything to do with the assassinations. I did a news search on another database, crosschecking the dates. From the obits the few months prior to the accusations, I'd guess there were two victims...a sheriff and a mayor. At least."

"Any other targets?"

"The _Clarion_'s Brian Crowell boldly states that Hopewell had at least one more target, but he won't say whom. He's the only one to even try. I'm sorry, boss, but we'll have to go through the ATF."

"Boss, one of us should really go to Denver, talk to the team in person," Tony cut in, his eyes dancing in anticipation. "That's the only way we can get that information."

Gibbs turned to the agent, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Is it, now."

"Oh yeah." Tony backtracked just slightly at his boss's look. "I'll go, be back with the info in two days." At Gibbs' look, he amended, "One?"

Kate, barely suppressing a smile of amusement, exchanged looks with a grinning Abby.

Gibbs headed for the door. "Grab your gear. McGee, get us on the first flight to Denver."

"YEEESSS!" Tony shouted.

"What is your obsession with Denver?" Kate asked. "You're a tropics guy. Gitmo, Puerto Rico."

"Snow, skiing..." Tony grinned wide. "All those snow bunnies who're cold and need somebody to - "

"I don't want to know," Kate exclaimed, cutting him off and gathering up her stuff. "Don't tell me. Please." Behind them, Abby grinned.

Tony shrugged. "You asked," he replied.

Gibbs continued to give orders. "Abby, get me a copy of what you've got there on the laptop. I also want the name of - "

"That would be Director Dale Redding, but you want to talk to Assistant Director Orin Travis," came a voice from the doorway. The agents and Abby looked up to see Ducky. "The ATF team is Chris Larabee's. And Mary Travis, Orin's daughter-in-law, was the third target."

Gibbs just looked at Ducky.

* * *

ATF HEADQUARTERS  
DENVER, CO

ATF assistant director Orin Travis was dressed in just a sweatshirt and jeans, but Kelly could still feel the aura of quiet authority the older man gave off as he paced the floor of his office. "Does Chris know yet?" he finally asked.

Kelly shook his head. "They're on a bust. Sutton case."

Travis nodded, wiping a hand down his face. The Sutton case was big - his boys had been working on it for over a few years. "How urgent did Chris' PD liasion say it was?"

"Pretty urgent," Kelly replied. "Harrison called me at four am. He's been trying to reach Chris all yesterday, and finally gave up and called me. He said one of the NCIS agents out in Hawaii already contacted a Washington team for help."

Orin looked up at that, frowning. "Did he say whom?"

Kelly shook his head. "He told me that Agent Owens said not to worry about it."

* * *

McGee again leaned forward to peek across the airplane's aisle, and Kate finally looked up in annoyance. "McGee. I expect this from Tony. Not you." Tony made a face at her from the window seat.

McGee sighed and sat back in his middle seat. After a moment, he whispered, "Is Ducky OK?"

All three peered discreetly across the aisle to where their boss sat with Ducky. The normally chatty ME had been oddly quiet, saying no more than five words since they'd met at the airport and boarded the plane. They were scheduled to land in Denver in an hour, and he was still silent.

"Just leave him be," Tony replied quietly. "Let Gibbs handle him."

Across the aisle, Gibbs sat patiently, his head against the back of the seat. He had been waiting for Ducky to speak for the entire flight, and there was not a peep out of him. He knew that the man had a lot of memories stored up, but he didn't know that it was this bad.

As if reading his mind, Ducky said quietly, "He was my godson." Gibbs turned to see the normally unflappable ME looking quietly into his soda cup. "I watched Stephen Travis grow up; I was at his graduation, at his wedding." He swallowed a moment. "The last time I saw Orin and Evie...Mary and Billy - it was at Stephen's funeral." He sighed. "I just...I've sent the cards at the holidays and birthdays, but I think I bring back too many memories to them. They don't remember me at a time when Stephen wasn't alive." He paused. "And me, them."

Gibbs nodded quietly, watching Ducky. The elderly ME fell silent again, toying with his cup, and the agent nudged him. "Worried?"

The older man set the cup down, as if he were about to say something. He paused, then looked up at Gibbs. "Mary lost her husband, Orin and Evie lost their son, to violence," he said quietly. "They nearly lost Billy to the same people. Mary and Stephen's son."

Gibbs' eyes widened slightly. "What?"

"He was five years of age," Ducky replied, his tone rife with disgust. "He was the only witness to his father's murder. So, understandably, he was..."

"...a target," Gibbs replied, his voice taking the same tone as Ducky's.

The man nodded quietly. "And then there's Mary."

"She's got quite an interesting file."

Ducky just chuckled. "You can say it, Jethro. Trouble finds her quite easily. Kidnapped, nearly burned out of her business district and home, nearly blown up, then this." He shook his head.

"She's not going to die, Duck."

"I don't think Orin and Evie can take anymore," Ducky replied quietly. "It's hard enough to see our own colleagues pass on, but this - we are getting far too old to be burying those younger than we. When Christopher Pacci died, well." He shrugged and fell silent.

Ducky sighed, fnally looking up. "You should have seen his family the day of Stephen's funeral." He shook his head. "Parents are not meant to bury their children."

* * *

LARABEE RANCH  
OUTSIDE DENVER

Kelly looked over at his passenger, sitting shotgun in the company car. Orin Travis looked as though he had aged ten years since this (early) morning, and the younger man could not help feeling sorry for the assistant director. His team already had gotten police surveillance out on Mary, Billy, and Evie Travis.

The agent pulled up on the final road out to the Larabee ranch. A few cars dotted the driveway, so they knew the team was at the ranch, the usual way they kicked back to relax after a tough case. And so they should - Sutton was arrested. It would be all over the news this morning.

"They should have their cell phones," Orin grumbled as he climbed out of the car. The two men headed up to the door and rang the doorbell; there was no answer. Orin pounded it impatiently a couple more times, and then the two men heard a muffled drawl spouting a list of unprintable words, only a few of which were English.

Italian with a tinge of a Southern accent. Kelly had never heard that before; it was kind of amusing.

"STANDISH! OPEN THIS DOOR!" Travis roared. Apparently he was not amused.

After several moments, the door opened, and a very unhappy ATF undercover agent opened the door, barely awake. "Director. You are certainly not the face I wish to see upon waking."

Orin took a deep breath and kept his patience. Standish was a good agent, he reminded himself. And he had been out in the cold for months; he deserved his rest. "Is Chris here?"

"Director, this IS his ranch."

'Good agent, good agent, good agent,' Orin repeated to himself. "I need to talk to him."

"Come now, Director Travis, you seriously would not consider forcing us to come to the office today! I believe that this utterly cruel and unusual call back to the office would warrant the raise I have been seeking, and - "

Kelly stepped in between the director and the ATF agent. "Hey Ez."

"Mr. Kelly."

Kelly didn't mince words. "It's Hopewell, Ezra."

The undercover agent was suddenly awake, his eyes becoming unnaturally bright and alert. Travis' impatience suddenly faded, and although he would never say it to Standish - he would not be hit up for another raise or for another thousand-dollar dry-cleaning bill for a ruined suit - he felt particularly bad about hauling the Larabee boys back out, especially Standish.

Ezra, however, was obviously no longer feeling like guilting the director. "Our esteemed former governor?" His tone showed the sarcastic disrespect he obviously had for the man. At Kelly's slight nod, Ezra was already grabbing a jacket and heading out the back. "I'll take Chaucer. My colleagues went out for a day ride, so their cell phones might not be within range. We'll be at headquarters in an hour."

Orin gave the younger man a grandfatherly, chastising look. "Ezra. This ranch is forty-five minutes away from headquarters."

The undercover agent just smirked. "Director Travis, do you drive a Model T?"

* * *

ATF HEADQUARTERS  
DENVER, CO

"Drive a little faster, Larabee, and you might pick up the business the Concorde left." Kelly was entirely undaunted by the glare the Team 7 leader shot at him.

They'd barely gotten onto their floor when one of Kelly's men came running, his eyes wide and a little unsettled. "Boss, boss. Agent Larabee!" He rushed on. "A team from NCIS is here. They flew in from Washington, DC, and they won't tell me what's going on." The agent paused a moment, then amended, "Well, the elderly man keeps talking and talking, but he hasn't TOLD me anything."

"Do you have names?"

"Elderly man?" Orin cut in. "Glasses? English accent?"

Everyone turned to look at the older man, who was himself intently watching the Team 8 agent. The agent nodded, even more confused now.

Travis pushed past the bewildered man, the others close behind, and hurried into the Team 7 bullpen. "Ducky!"

Both agencies' employees watched in surprise as the elderly director crossed the floor in record time. How odd it was, Kelly mused, that in those few long strides across the floor, Orin Travis lost all those years he'd gained this morning and then some. He took a sidelong glance at Team 7, who took the annual "Team that causes Travis the most headaches" award every year, and noticed the same surprised looks on their faces - even the ever inscrutable Tanner and Standish.

In the bullpen, Kelly noticed a graying, older man; a brunet, younger man who had the same surprised look on his face; an even younger agent whose mouth was slightly open; and a pretty brunette.

Uh-oh. A woman? Within ten miles of Buck Wilmington?

Orin finally turned to the other agents, the same delighted expression on both men's faces. The other man was busily waving over his companions as Travis smiled. "Boys, this is a former colleague of mine, a most trusted friend," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Dr. Donald Mallard, now the NCIS medical examiner." He turned to the NCIS team, extending a hand to the team. "I'm Orin Travis, an old friend of Ducky's."

Kate smiled as he shook their hands in introductions. Ducky had told them about Orin Travis on the way from the airport; although an assistant director, he seemed to wield much more power than one would suspect, yet still introduced himself as Ducky's friend.

The director was about to turn to his own team when a tall, mustached man suddenly saw her and seemed to come alive. He came around from behind to Kate. "Well, darlin'," he said in a most honeyed voice, "seein' you...is better than seein' the sun...you so outshine it like...the first of May does the last of December."

The bullpen suddenly fell silent, and suddenly the generally inaudible vents seemed to be roaring. There was an audible gulp from one of the ATF agents.

Kate looked up at the man, who was still smiling as charmingly as he could down at her, although with a little less confidence. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see McGee's wide-eyed look and Tony's "uh-oh" one. Gibbs and Ducky looked mildly amused, but Travis looked hell-bent on murder.

The NCIS agent smiled as sweetly as she could and then, without looking at her colleague, said, "Tony, you should have told us your brother worked in Denver." Tony made a face at her back.

There was a collective breath of relief, and five pairs of hands yanked him back into the crowd, threatening all sorts of torture should he land them in another sexual harassment lecture. A tall, whip-cord thin blond turned a flesh-sizzling, bone-burning glare at him.

Orin Travis shot the man a dark look for added measure, then introduced the seven team members and Kelly and his agent. A tall, African-American man came forward, a hand extended, obviously quite excited. "Dr. Mallard, hello!"

"Ah, Agent Jackson!" The ME smiled warmly, shaking his hand. "It is so wonderful to see you again." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "You have considered my offer, I trust?"

The man laughed, open and wide, as his colleagues looked on in a mix of surprise and apprehension. "Thank you, doctor, but I will stick with what I know."

Ducky chuckled, shaking a finger at him. "That's what Gerald said." He turned to the NCIS agents. "This is ATF special agent Nathan Jackson, team medic. And while Anthony's brother might not work in Denver, Gerald's brother does." The ME chuckled as Jackson grinned.

"Team MEDIC?" McGee blurted before he could hold it back.

The man chuckled. "With those guys, there should be at least two of us." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at this teammates.

"So, you work to keep people from ending up in front of Gerald, right?" Tony kidded.

Nathan laughed. "That's one way to put it. Our grandfather owned a funeral home. He and Gerald used to bond over the embalming table. They always tried to include me, but," the medic just smiled wide, shrugging.

"You considered a job offer elsewhere?" exclaimed one unhappy voice from the sea of ATF agents.

"No, no, I merely offered," Ducky cut in, smoothing out the ruffled feathers. "I'm afraid Agent Jackson is quite attached to his job out in Denver." There were looks of relief, and Ducky put a friendly arm around the agent. "Agent Jackson, I do think you ought to reconsider. The dead have quite a few tales to tell."

Jackson laughed. "Thanks, doc, but I'll stick with the living."

"The living talk back, my boy," Ducky reminded, his eyes twinkling.

"Don't I know it," Nathan commented darkly, glaring at his teammates.

* * *

Gibbs continued to watch the monitor, concentrating, as PD detective Sean Harrison and Agent Owens ran through all the information they had. He made a few notes, but he knew their side of the feed was being taped.

Larabee was seated next to him, looking both exhausted and alert and all around furious. He had been quite reluctant to share the investigation, but Travis had pulled him aside; Gibbs overheard that the team had just finished a huge bust and could use the help, and so on. Having read the case file and also the agents' files, the NCIS agent was sure they could most likely use a third party, too. With a target who was a personal friend and the director's daughter-in-law and Buck Wilmington's fling with Hopewell's former campaign manager, there were a lot of personal ties in the matter.

Chris didn't know whether to thank God he was finally getting another crack at Hopewell or be annoyed at the timing...because it was awful timing, period. And now he had a fed breathing down his neck. Oh, he had JD call up the file. Leroy Jethro Gibbs - what kind of ridiculous name was that? - with a reputation for being a pain in the butt and who apparently didn't know there was a rulebook (besides his own), but to whom everybody accomodated themselves. His scowl deepened.

Mary's life was not dice to be played with, and if JD's intel had been correct, there had been five targets planned for; Mary was only #3. That meant three lives at stake while he had to share time with NCIS.

At least it wasn't the Fibbies.

Owens and Harrison were signing off now, and the techie was rewinding the tape and closing down the call when Chris heard a growl beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gibbs glare at his PDA - that man used a PDA? - and poke at it harder with the little pen. It apparently didn't work, because Gibbs pounded it to pieces against the plastic arm of the chair he was sitting in. "I hate this thing."

The techie watched dumbly, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Gibbs flung himself up from his chair and headed out, Chris following. A smile was already on the latter's face as the ex-Marine marched through the bullpen: "COMPLETE CRAP!" Chris's men watched in surprise as the silver-haired team boss threw the ruined PDA at the youngest NCIS agent. "Reboot it!" he barked as he headed for the kitchenette.

The agent - McGee, Chris remembered - wrinkled his nose in a big wince. DiNozzo gave him the "you're in trouble now" look as he commented, "So, probie, are you prepared for this one? A NCIS agent is always prepared. Semper Paratus and all that."

Todd rolled her eyes. "That's the Coasties. The Corps' motto is 'Semper Fidelis,' Tony."

"Whatever."

Kate turned to McGee. "McGee, if you don't have any new ones, I brought a few in my suitcase. I think Tony did, too."

McGee sighed. "Yeah, I brought two of the new PDAs with me."

"Nice job, probie," Tony said approvingly, clapping him on the back. "We'll make a real agent out of you yet."

"So what are you going to do?" JD suddenly blurted in curiosity, eyeing the busted PDA in sympathy. Heck, even Chris knew that rebooting wouldn't help. That was part of the satisfaction the team boss derived from shooting a computer.

"What we always do," McGee sighed as he rummaged through his suitcase and pulled out a new PDA.

From the doorway, Chris grinned in amusement. Maybe this wasn't going to be that bad.

_TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

**The Mile High City Affair**

by Sammie

Disclaimer in part 1.

* * *

THE _CLARION_ NEWSPAPER OFFICE  
FOUR CORNERS BUSINESS DISTRICT, DENVER, CO

"Nathan!" Mary smiled warmly as her friend came in. She promptly saved her document on the computer and turned to the two men. "Ezra. This is a surprise. What can I do for you?"

"Mary, pack up your laptop and the files you're working on now," Nathan replied in a no-nonsense, serious tone.

"What?"

"Ms. Travis, where are your Hopewell files?" Ezra asked, looking around.

"I'll get them," Mary cut in, looking concerned but confused as she headed to the filing cabinet to look for her records.

Ezra powered down her laptop and folded up the cord. "Ms. Travis, I strongly recommend you bring more work than that. You will be working from an extra desk in our office for an indefinite period."

The reporter frowned, and the two men instantly recognized Mary's "stubborn" look. It was as identifiable as Chris' glare - generally because they happened together. Chris would order her not to do something, and Mary would protest...and then he would glare and she would get her "stubborn" look.

Nathan sighed to himself. They really ought to explain these things to her, but there wasn't much time. "Mary," he said quietly, turning to her. "Mary, this is important. We think Hopewell's coming back."

The stubborn look got even more entrenched. "We've been saying that since he left Colorado."

Ezra got up to help support his friend and colleague. "Ms. Travis, many people believe the former governor has hired somebody to take a hit out on you, and we have reason to believe he has already arrived in Denver," he replied as gently as he could. There really was a reason the six men generally left the fiery widow for Larabee to deal with: he was the only one with the temper to match hers, when somebody ruffled her feathers, and -

"'Many people'? Special Agent Chris Larabee counts as 'many people'?" came the retort.

- and because Larabee was the one who generally ruffled Mary Travis' feathers. "Many people," Ezra reiterated, wondering what entertaining, spectacular fight would happen when they returned to the office. "Honolulu police, FBI, and NCIS, who is here right now."

"NCIS?" Mary looked puzzled. "Why them?"

"Because the missing is a Marine sniper," Nathan replied. "Mary. This is serious."

She looked at both quietly, then nodded.

* * *

ATF HEADQUARTERS  
DENVER, CO

"He looks like he did enough while he was in office," Kate commented as the ATF finished going over Hopewell's history as Colorado governor.

"He was pretty popular," Josiah conceded.

"So what about the case?" Gibbs replied impatiently.

The older ATF agent and profiler merely smiled in amusement, biting back his patience comment. It never worked with any of his teammates, so why should it work with Gibbs? He turned to the large flat-screen in the bullpen and clicked the remote. Two photos came on. "The man on the left was the sheriff of Dry Springs County, and the fellow on the right was the mayor of Kettleston. They were the first two victims."

"Dry Springs? Kettleston? Where're they?" DiNozzo asked, frowning as he examined the Colorado map.

"Dry Springs is over on the west side, and Kettleston's a piss-ant little town that isn't worth much," Buck replied. "But they were really big advocates for the extension of land rights or something, and the governor was opposed."

"So he killed 'em?" McGee asked in disbelief.

"Yeah."

"Our sources tell us that he most likely had five victims in mind at the time," Josiah cut in. "Ms. Travis makes #3."

"And the other two?"

"We don't know who they are, only that at the time, there were supposed to be five."

"Any guesses?" Gibbs asked.

Josiah clicked the remote again. "Alicia Dowdey, Dale Sheldon, Daniel Myrick, Katrina Fasol. Chief of police in Colorado Springs, retired chief of police in Colorado Springs, head of DEA Team 3 located here in Denver, and the dean of University of Denver, respectively."

"You can add Brian Crowell to the list," Larabee added shortly in a tone that seemed more obligatory than out of any great concern for the man.

"Reporter for the _Clarion_," JD supplied. "Mary's coworker. He wrote an article that said Hopewell was behind the shootings. Plus he said there were potential other vicims; the name of Katrina Fasol came to us from him. The Governor was mad."

"He sued the pants off the _Clarion_," Buck replied.

Josiah then called up another screen. "These are the shooters from last time. This is - "

" - Lucius Stutz," breathed Ducky from the side. He didn't seem to notice when Josiah stopped in surprise and all the agents looked at him. "Orin, is that Stutz? You caught Stutz?"

Orin nodded, a small smile creasing his face. "That is Stutz, but I wouldn't say we caught him."

"What?" JD finally blurted for all of them, unable to hold in his curiosity any longer.

"Lucius Stutz's victims came across my table with a frightening regularity," Ducky replied darkly. "Same _modus operandi_ each time - a bullet between the eyes. Orin and I tracked him for so long, but he was always one step ahead of us. He only ever missed once - the young woman moved just in time but still felt the bullet pass right over her; it lodged in the wall right behind her head."

The ATF agents turned in wonder to Travis. "You didn't tell us this," Buck replied.

"He told me," Larabee replied, cutting off the questions.

"Stutz's boy" Ducky pointed at his one eye "had an accident. Rumor was it that he lost an eye and replaced it with a glass one. We were concerned. Stutz was training him to take over 'the family business,' and that dead eye would only help him focus better."

"That's for sure," Josiah nodded. "He and his father were working together on this last case. Stutz Senior died of old age while on the job."

"And the younger one?" Ducky asked.

"We had him surrounded," Chris bit off, his anger barely suppressed as he recalled what happened. "He reached for his gun and one of Hopewell's men shot him with that stupid excuse he was reaching for his weapon."

"We didn't get who hired him, obviously," Buck finished.

"The Stutzes were here in Denver?" Ducky asked, surprised.

"You didn't work in Denver with Director Travis?" Ezra replied with a question.

"No. We worked in New York," Travis replied. "Stutz got his start there. Because we were the first on his tail, when he went national and started taking out victims across the country, Ducky and I started flying cross-country to investigate."

"That's how you're buzz with coroners all over," Tony commented.

"Partly."

"How did you realize it was the Stutzes who were on the Hopewell job?" McGee asked.

"Jones," Travis replied for the team, turning to Ducky with a twinkle in his eye.

Ducky blinked. "Liver-eating Jones?" he asked in surprise. At his old friend's nod, Ducky shook his head, chuckling. "It seems you work better without me, Orin. Stutz and Jones?"

Travis just laughed and shook his head. "I'm afraid we didn't catch Jones, either," he replied to Ducky before turning to the others and explaining, "Jones was an old sniper from our days. He and Stutz."

"For awhile we attempted to play one off the other through undercover agents and through informants. Jones never missed a shot, and Stutz had," Ducky continued. "How did you...find Jones?"

"He came to Denver," Travis replied. "By the time the boys found him, he had not touched a gun in over a year. He got converted. 'Got religion,' he said." At Ducky's shocked expression, Travis just laughed. "That was my reaction, but Mr. Sanchez here keeps reminding me that 'the Lord works miracles.'"

Ducky chuckled as he nodded to the profiler. "This certainly would count as one."

"Jones has been an consultant for us ever since," Travis continued. "He's been able to identify several old-timers just from the victim. Some of the new-fangled snipers have different MOs, but he's managed to tie together disparate victims to one killer. He's quite a help."

Ducky just shook his head, a smile touching his features before waving at the teams. "Please, continue. Orin and I will continue our nostalgic reminiscing later."

"Tell us what you have," Travis nodded to the NCIS team.

"Gunnery Sergeant Michael Garcia. He went UA a few days ago. The MPs went searching for him but didn't find him. They pulled articles off his hard drive, all from the Hopewell case." Tony held up a photo. "This is a picture of Garcia at the airport. He bought a ticket from Hawaii to Denver four days ago - paid cash. His bank accounts showed no sign of activity. We're here to find him."

"That's it?" Buck asked doubtfully. "That's all you got on your guy tying him to Hopewell?"

"You have to understand," interjected Ezra in as conciliatory a tone as possible. "Governor Hopewell has had every private lawyer in this state work for him at one point, and he is quick to sue for libel. Before we go public on anything, we would like to - well, have pictures of Hopewell personally shooting the victim to support our story. Or indelible video coverage."

"He brings a whole new definition to 'lawyering up,'" JD complained.

"What does Garcia do?" Larabee asked.

"Garcia is a Marine sniper," Kate replied. "He joined the Corps about twelve years ago. He was so good at what he did that within two years of his joining the Corps, they sent him to sniper school and then brought him back as an instructor. He had wiped his laptop, but we pulled the information from it. He had several maps of Denver from an aerial view - rooftop, high windows, vantage points, the whole thing. He also had almost every article on the web about the case."

"He's training instructors, now, too, and is a member of the advisory board for the Marines' rifling makers," Tony added. "He's used most rifles known to man and then a few we don't know. In a pinch, he's been teaching brush-up courses for federal law enforcement." The NCIS agent pushed a file over to Larabee.

Chris flipped it open, skimmed the dossier, and whistled softly when he got to the sniper score. "OK, he's good." He handed the file to Vin and Buck, who exchanged worried looks when they saw it.

"And he's a lefty," Vin commented, impressed.

"Why didn't he do a DoD overwrite?" JD asked, frowning. All heads turned to him, and he explained to his teammates, "The DoD has a way of wiping a computer clean - first, they wipe it, and then they overwrite it five, six, seven times. It's unrecoverable information." When his roommate sat up straighter and opened his mouth, about to comment, JD glared. "No, Buck, I don't have access to that, and even if I did, I wouldn't use it to clean your computer of the trash you look at."

"Well," McGee replied, answering JD's question, "Garcia was a sniper. He wasn't doing any computer work for the DoD." He paused, then said slowly, "The laptop was Marine-issue, not his. I mean, if he used DoD software to wipe the drive, they'd suspect something since he wasn't doing work for them."

When the answer seemed to satisfy, Tony held up another photo. "Security cameras across the street at the high school - "

"Security cameras at a high school?" Buck asked incredulously.

"Buck, world's changed a lot since you and the Pilgrims went to school," JD snarked, which got him a cuff that sent his hat flying. "Hey!"

"JD, world's gotten a lot smarter since that hat was in fashion," Buck returned.

The hat flew across the table, landing in front of Kate. "Hey, the Red Sox?" She grinned across the table at JD. "Boston fan?"

"Oh yeah," JD grinned, sitting up. "I'm from Boston."

"Good choice," she replied, then added with a smirk thrown in Tony's direction, "Great minds think alike."

"Anyhow," Tony drew out, making a face at Kate about the 'great minds' comment, "security cameras across the street at the school kicked in where there was movement in front of the building. Caught them just at the corner." Tony held up a photo. "Garcia and one of Hopewell's associates, exchanging money."

"It's that loser Horace," Nathan exclaimed.

"You know him?"

"He was Hopewell's personal advisor during the reelection campaign," Buck explained. "When Lou - the campaign manager quit, he took over the role."

"So that's what you've got?"

"Based on this photo, Hopewell's man is the last one to see Garcia alive." Tony tilted his head, giving the ATF agents a meaningful look.

Suddenly Vin spoke up. "How do we know it's somethin' bad?" Ten incredulous looks turned to him; he sat back a little, obviously uncomfortable with the attention. He collected myself and then continued, "Mike Garcia's got a good rep."

"You know him?" Kate asked.

"Both of us do," Josiah boomed, nodding at Vin. "He grew up here in Denver, in Purgatorio."

"Purgatory?" Gibbs asked, his tone amused.

"They should've just named it hell and been over with it," Buck muttered.

"Anyhow," Josiah replied, "He was one of the kids who got out. Bad neighborhood; he cleaned up something good just before high school and joined the Marines."

"What kind of reputation?" Gibbs asked.

"All of us knew 'bout Mike," Vin replied quietly. "He was a coupla years older'n me. He was a good guy." At the others' inquiring looks, he shook his head. "Most of what I knew came from the guys..." he paused a moment, looking around at the faces as if he didn't want to reveal this bit of information, and then said quietly, "...at the foster home."

Tony and McGee exchanged looks.

"He made me think 'bout joinin' up," Vin finished. "After he cleaned up, he never shot nuthin' he didn't need ta shoot, but he was fast and when he decided somethin', that was it. All of us Ranger snipers knew him, although he was a Marine."

"He must've been really good, then," Gibbs replied, watching the ATF sniper carefully. "If you're saying this."

The room fell silent as everyone looked from one to the other. Vin shifted a little in his seat, more out of his usual wary curiosity than out of suspicion. He turned his baby blues to the NCIS team boss and was slightly startled to see a pair of intense but neutral, clear, blue eyes looking back at him patiently. Vin paused a moment, and then a tiny smile crossed his face. Gibbs had read his file. It briefly occurred to him that the ex-Marine had seen even the...mess-ups...in his file and there was no condemnatory look.

Vin's eyes twinkled, and the NCIS agent's tiny smile widened in response. The sniper just shook his head. "Mike was a legend."

"What about the people he hung out with here? Where are they?" Gibbs asked.

"He didn't hang out with people much, 'specially after he cleaned up. Some moved on, some were killed, lots're in jail," Vin replied. "There is one, though. Rebekah Lawrence. She's an old friend of his. When he's got leave, he comes to Denver to see her. Mebbe she knows."

"How do YOU know her?" Gibbs asked warily.

"She helps at the church youth center. Josiah'n me both know'er."

"How do we find her?"

* * *

REBEKAH LAWRENCE'S HOME  
OUTSIDE DENVER

"He was a lot older than you?" Kate asked, putting her cup down.

Rebekah nodded. "Eleven years." At the two NCIS agents' inquiring looks, she just chuckled and shook her head. "It's not like that. I've got nothing against May-December relationships, but that wasn't like it for us. I met him when I was four; he was fifteen. It was like getting a much older brother, or almost like a father."

"Four?" Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "How much of him do you remember?"

"Bits and pieces from when I was younger - more when I got older. The letters and the journal my grandmother left filled in a lot of holes." She paused. "I was naive. Mike and his friends had a soft spot for my grandmother, so they tried to keep me from doing dumb stuff. If Mike didn't hold me back by my collar, I most likely would be dead."

"'Dumb stuff'?"

"The first week I was at Grandma's I decided to go by myself across the street to the local store. Where..." she started looking embarrassed "...they had a shooting a week before. Fortunately Mike happened to be there and he took me home. My grandmother had been frantic, and after seeing how she was, Mike sort of took it on himself to make sure I didn't get in more trouble."

"How long was that?"

She thought for a moment. "Well, he didn't graduate high school until he was twenty, so about five years."

"When did he decide to join the Marines?"

"He said...well, he said in retrospect, he thinks he was about sixteen when he first seriously considered it. One of the new storeowners accused him of covering for some kids who were shoplifting. Officer - Captain, now - Wiggam cleared it up. I think he was the one who talked to him about the Corps."

"How did you find out about this?"

She looked at them sheepishly. "It was my fault he was in the store. Long story. But I'd talk to Mike or to Capt. Wiggam if you want to know what they talked about."

"Did Garcia have a record?"

"I don't think he had charges for that particular shoplifting thing, but I know Mike had a record. He was worried he'd never get into the Marines because of it. Again, you'll have to talk to Mike or to Wiggam."

"When did you last talk to Gunny Garcia?"

She shrugged a moment, thinking. "A couple months ago?"

"Is that a question?" Gibbs asked, slightly impatiently. "When exactly?"

"Four months ago."

"He didn't say anything about coming back?"

She thought a moment, then shook his head. "No. He just said he didn't have leave for another six months. Why?"

"He went UA from his base four days ago."

Her eyes went wide in surprise. "UA? Mike went UA?" She paused, then shook her head. "Like I told the FBI, he wouldn't go - "

All three agents looked up sharply at that. Gibbs interrupted, "You talked to the FBI?"

She shrugged, looking slightly puzzled as she looked from her questioner to Kate and then to Vin. "Yes, why?"

"When did they come?" Kate asked.

"Last week," she replied, her confusion mounting. "They came in asking about Mike."

"And it doesn't surprise you that we're here asking you the same things?" Gibbs asked suspiciously.

She shrugged a little defensively, her eyes wide. "I'm not a LEO; I don't know the way these things work," she replied. "I just figured..." She trailed off.

"You figured what?" Gibbs asked sharply.

She opened her mouth for a moment, then shut it, then began, "Agent Chris Larabee has a reputation for doing things his way, for not trusting anybody's information and retreading ground other LEOs have. So when you showed up with Vin..." She shrugged helplessly again.

Gibbs nodded. Vin could see him letting her stew a little bit before the NCIS senior agent hit: "You have a very nice home, Miss Lawrence."

She fell silent, and Kate could see what Vin had meant when he said on the way over that she just got quiet as a survival mechanism. After a long moment, she merely said in a soft voice, "Thank you."

Way to release information.

Gibbs obviously realized that as he turned to her, an eyebrow raised. Not mincing any more words, he asked bluntly, "How much was it? Your pay at Prospector School District can't be that much. They're a poor district."

"The house was 200,000," she replied, ending there.

"How much is your mortgage?"

There was a long pause, and then a quiet murmur. "I have none."

"You have...NO...mortgage?" Gibbs drew out the question as he raised an eyebrow. "How did you pay for this?"

She turned a little so she was looking at them, her eyes flickering from the senior NCIS agent to his subordinate and then to the ATF agent before turning back. She sighed a little, turning her head, as if thinking through many things.

"How did you pay for this?" Gibbs repeated.

"It was my inheritance," she replied finally, in a very small voice. "It was the money left over after college had been paid for."

* * *

ATF HEADQUARTERS

"Her uncle is Daniel Borde...laze...Bordelais," Vin replied. "Some Frenchie-soundin' thing."

Standish turned to him with an astonished look. "Daniel Bordelais?" he asked incredulously. "Rebekah Lawrence is related to Daniel Bordelais? Why have you never mentioned this before now?"

"Ezra, who is it?"

"Daniel Bordelais is one of the richest men in New York," Ezra replied. "A highly successful entrepreneur married to a blueblood."

"How does Lawrence figure into this?"

JD looked up from his laptop. "After her parents died, she went to live with her grandmother. Her grandmother died when she was eleven years old. Custody was given to her only surviving relatives - the Bordelais."

"Lawrence's father's sister was the first Mrs. Bordelais before she died of cancer. His second wife," McGee finished as he acknowledged Standish, "is the blueblood. Kids are from his first wife."

"How did we not know about this?" Chris barked.

"She doesn't like to talk about it," Vin replied. "Besides the house, she doesn't get any money from that."

"So that explains the house," Tony commented.

"I don't think we can just assume that," McGee replied.

"Really," Tony dared him, narrowing his eyes ever so slowly. "And I'm sure you know where she got that money from."

"It doesn't mean she's not getting money from Hopewell through Garcia," McGee retorted, the two seemingly oblivious to a few raised eyebrows from the ATF agents.

"Oh, and so what happened to innocent until - "

"Hey!" Kate hissed, glaring at them. Her voice went even lower in her fury, and her angry whisper shut them up: "Can't you two at least keep it in the family? At least look like you agree when we're with other agencies." She looked up at the ATF team with a dark expression, as if daring them to comment about the exchange.

McGee took a deep breath and then said calmly, "All I'm saying is that she grew up with money. To be cut off from it is kind of...difficult. I mean, from the sound of it, she most likely grew up with people to buy her clothes for her, buy her food for her, cook it. She's most likely never done it herself."

"She IS a bad cook," JD mumbled.

"Mr. Dunne, one oughtn't speak ill of a lady."

"Come on, Ezra. Don't tell me that you don't cringe 'cause she wears sweatshirts and jeans all the time."

"Well, yes, Miss Lawrence does...not seem to dress as one befitting her class."

"'Class'?" Tony retorted sharply. "Look. I'm sure her life now is radically different from what she had when she was in New York, but to assume every rich man's kid acts like...the Hiltons is stupid. Just because she's rich doesn't mean she doesn't know how to work and it certainly doesn't mean she'd turn to crime to support a rich lifestyle."

"I agree with Agent DiNozzo," Josiah cut in. "Beckie didn't go to her aunt and her uncle's until she was nearly in high school. She might not be able to cook, but you have to see her budget for the youth center and how she shops, matching ads and coupons and so on. She seems to know how to manage money. And she certainly can't be spending money on clothing."

"What else do we have? What about Wiggam?"

"Wiggam?" Buck repeated. "Sure we've heard of him. He's an old timer at the PD; he's a Marine Reservist."

"He handled Garcia's case at least once, and according to Lawrence, did a lot to turn Garcia around."

"We'll go talk to him," Chris replied.

"I also suggest you get a protective detail for Ms. Travis and her family immediately," Gibbs replied shortly.

"I already have," Orin cut in. "That's been taken care of."

There were a few nods, and then Chris sat forward with a frown. "Director, Kelly's team is out on a case right now. Who's taking protective detail?" There was a pause as the agents looked back and forth between the blond and the graying director. Chris began to shake his head as he sat back. "No. Director - "

"Team three is a good team, Chris," Orin replied in a severe tone.

Josiah cleared his throat loudly. "I'm going to get a doughnut. Brothers, care to join me?"

"Sprinkles," called the sniper as he nearly vaulted over the chair for the door.

McGee sat dumbly in his chair until Tony kicked him, and the NCIS team started out of the conference room. Kate was just out of the door when Gibbs shook his head slightly at her, and she stepped back questioningly into the conference room as the air-pressure door slowly closed.

"Director, they're not going to be able to keep Mary safe," Chris replied severely. "Either we do the detail and Kelly does the investigation or Kelly does the detail and we the investigation."

"I am not going to pull Kelly's boys now. Team 3 is perfectly capable of doing this," Orin replied firmly. "Kelly needs two days, three days max, and I need you boys to crack open this case, not distracted be by a security detail."

"This is Mary's life, and that includes Billy," Chris replied severely.

"You don't think I don't know that?" Kate watched as the director sighed and ran a heavy hand through his hair. "I wish it could be different. Kelly's promised to come in as soon as they can, but in the meantime - "

" - allow Agent Todd and me to take care of the detail," Gibbs spoke.

The two men turned quickly. "What about your investigation, Agent Gibbs?" Travis asked, not unkindly.

"We agreed in that meeting that the only lead in your case right now is my Marine. Find the Marine, crack the case. We hardly need eleven agents on it at once."

Larabee looked doubtful. "We can handle this."

Gibbs stepped forward, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Agent Todd and I are fully qualified to work a protective detail. We do work for NCIS."

"And how many military officers have you protected?" Larabee asked sharply.

Gibbs paused a moment, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. "Kate, step out."

The female agent frowned slightly, then headed out the door. When it clicked softly behind her, Gibbs stepped forward. "I've been at NCIS for 19 years and headed a security detail for the White House a few years ago. Agent Todd used to be with the Secret Service, assigned to the president's detail. You tell me if we're qualified."

"If you could watch Mary for us, that would be good," Orin cut in, accepting the offer. "It should only be a few days."

Gibbs nodded and headed out the door.

Orin paused as he watched the door close, and then said in a puzzled tone, "It hardly seems like him to give up the investigation so early."

Larabee snorted. "He didn't. He figures we won't be able to find Garcia in these next few days, so it won't matter if he's not working it directly."

Orin paused a moment, then began to chuckle. "Garcia's a sniper and a Marine. He'd have to want to be found or foul up fairly badly for us to find him in the next forty-eight hours," he confirmed, then shook his head, amused. "This way Gibbs can stay in the loop on the investigation...and, I'm guessing, get information out of Mary."

Chris muttered a not-so-nice epithet.

Orin chuckled and clapped the man on the shoulder as he headed out. "You two should get along just fine."

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

**The Mile High City Affair**

by Sammie

Disclaimer in part 1.

Thanks to everyone for the feedback!

Nathan Jackson, African-American medic, and Gerald Jackson, African-American medical examiner's assistant, was too good a coincidence to pass up. As if the fandoms didn't coincide enough.  
- Sean Harrison: Michael Biehn in Hawaii and a canon "NCIS" character in Hawaii (Agent Richard Owens, "The Curse") worked out nicely. I wouldn't call it a triple crossover - I'm just borrowing characters and references / allusions (especially the latter).  
- Shipping: My definition of 'shipping' seems to differ from everybody else's; in the most narrow definition of being utterly determined to see two characters get together, I don't ship. I try to keep in character as much as possible and MY ship writing would be very OUT of character. (I like the UST.) Double Kudos to the few (and rightly, the proud) who can put two characters together and keep them both in character.

* * *

DENVER POLICE DEPARTMENT

"He was a good kid," the elderly policeman - Wiggam - replied. "The storekeeper was...he was so angry at the time. You should've seen it," he chuckled. "There was this furious man, and this teen looking just as angry and spitting fire; and this chubby, wide-eyed little girl clutching his hand and hiding behind him, looking like she was about to cry."

"What happened?" Tony asked as he finished making a note.

"I took Mike Garcia to the station. Beckie Lawrence wouldn't talk to me. At first I thought maybe she didn't speak English, but he assured me she could. I guess he figured she was his chance to avoid charges, and so after a little prodding, she told me why she, at least, was in the store."

"Why was it?"

"She said she had to go to the bathroom." There were snickers.

"You didn't buy it," Buck replied with a smile, seeing the officer's amused smile.

Wiggam snorted. "Like the rest of you, I've seen people use small children as shields. Mike Garcia was on the border of his turf with a small child in tow. I wasn't buying it for a moment. I left the room for awhile, with other people watching them interact. He let her sit on his lap, drew pictures for her. It seemed...genuine. I mean, if this got out, he'd been branded a wuss and everyone would assume they could pick fights with him."

"What happened then?"

"Beckie Lawrence's grandmother showed up and hollered her way to be the first to talk to me. Based on what she told me, Garcia's concern for the little kid was real. When I talked to the storekeeper again and got his story, I found definite problems - if Mike had been fronting for the two shoplifters, he had really awful timing. A couple of officers brought the two kids in, and with a little finagling, got them to admit they didn't know Mike. That was enough for me, anyhow, to clear him."

"What did you do then?"

"I brought Garcia back in, alone. Had a talk with him."

"About what?" McGee asked.

"The Marines." The men chuckled. "He has good wits about him, natural survival instinct; and from what I saw that day, a heart and a deep sense of responsibility underneath. Lawrence, piddly squat on survival instinct - well, she was very good at fading into the woodwork. After just a few minutes, you'd forget entirely she was there. But Garcia - he had honed instincts, and seemed like he could disappear and reappear at will...like your Agent Tanner."

"What did Garcia say at the time about the Marines?"

"Scoffed. Didn't like taking orders, he said, or wearing some starched uniform. I didn't hear from him again for several years. Next time he came in..." Wiggam shook his head a little, remembering. "Dress blue charlies, the whole thing." He chuckled with the others. "He told me he'd joined up and he'd actually finished training already. They'd picked him out to be a sniper."

"Did you know about his ability to shoot?"

"No. I know he had excellent eyes, though." Wiggam sobered as his eyes flickered to the two ATF agents. "With Marine training, I'd say he's one of the deadliest men in this country."

* * *

BROWN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL

"Mommie!" Kate watched with a smile as a small, tow-headed boy broke away from the crowd of children and ran towards them, his small backpack bouncing all over his back.

The professional reporter retreated and the mother came forward as Mary Travis knelt to scoop the boy into her arms and straight up into the air. The pure joy she had from her seeing her son was obvious; although Kate doubted that Mary would ever be able to give up her job - reporting was such a part of who she was - it in no way diminished the obvious love she had for her child.

The minute Billy was put back on the ground, he turned and saw the two NCIS agents. To Kate's surprise, the boy suddenly grew shy and cautious and retreated behind his mother, gripping her hand as he peered out at them warily.

Mary smiled apologetically. "He's a little...wary of strangers," she explained. "Billy, this is Agent Gibbs and Agent Todd. They're NCIS agents and they're going to stay with us a little while, OK?"

The little boy's eyes widened slightly, and Mary felt her son's hand grip hers a little more tightly. To her surprise, it was the perpetually silent Gibbs who first crouched down to her son's level. He smiled at the boy, his blue eyes kindly twinkling at the child, and Billy's caution lessened slightly.

The reporter looked on in fascination as Agent Gibbs talked quietly to Billy about the small, hand-carved wooden horse attached to his bookbag, the one Chris had given him when the child first arrived in town. Talking about his favorite subject brought Billy out of his shell quickly, and within a few minutes, he was telling Gibbs all about Chris Larabee as the four headed out to the car.

Mary's amusement grew as she watched her son with the NCIS agent. She stole a sidelong peek at Kate, and saw the woman's amused expression - one tinged with the slightest bit of annoyance. Mary knew that feeling - when one discovered that a second grader could get more information out of a federal agent than a reporter (or, in Kate's case, a fellow colleague) could.

After she buckled her son into the car and shut the door, she straightened. Looking from one agent to the other, she said quietly, "Is two really necessary?" There was no stubborness, no defiance, just a question.

"This guy is not small-time, Ms. Travis," Gibbs replied shortly. "I think you know you're being hunted." When she didn't reply, he continued, "We're going to set up a command post in your house, set up surveillance. You're going to - "

The blonde shook her head, and Kate thought she looked emotionally drained. "Agent Gibbs, Agent Todd," she said quietly, her voice sounded almost defeated. "I understand how the protective detail works. Do whatever you need to. All I ask is...don't scare Billy." With that, she slid into the car.

Gibbs and Kate exchanged looks.

* * *

ATF HEADQUARTERS

"Wiggam said the same thing Lawrence did. He said Garcia had great survival instincts but was kind of a soft heart sometimes. Said he would have made a spectacular Marine."

"What about his associates?" Gibbs asked over the video conference screen.

Josiah flipped through his little notebook. "Most haven't had contact with him since he left Purgatorio; even then, they said that he was distant the last few years."

"They must have not liked that," Chris commented.

"Well, Buck said that Wiggam believed he had the survival instincts. Somehow he managed to get out of that group, continue to live there for a few years, and then make it out of high school and into the Marines without a problem."

"What do you have for us, Abby?" Tony asked, tilting his head at the flatscreen, where a video of Abby was just under the video feed from Mary's home.

"I just found a virus on Garcia's computer," Abby said. She called up the screen. "It's a really sophisticated trojan horse application. Which email it was attached to when it came in, I'm not sure, but when he - "

"Abby, keep it short," Gibbs cut in.

"Patience, Gibbs," the lab specialist replied with her cheerful grin. "Somebody was tracking what Garcia was doing on his computer. It's pretty sophisticated stuff." She grinned even wider, if that were possible. "Here's the thing. I think Garcia knew."

"What?" Buck voiced all the agents' confusion.

"Some of the stuff I pulled from his hard drive, which he'd deleted before, was kind of broad in terms of sites he visited and emails he sent. Right around the time the trojan was put on, he stopped. There was a whole bunch of people he stopped sending emails to, and he stopped going to certain websites, everything. I mean, some email strings just stop abruptly."

"What kind of email strings?"

"For example, correspondence with Rebekah Lawrence. The first couple emails seemed to say that he was going to visit Denver during his leave time, but then he stops responding. She sent maybe two more emails, the last one about a month ago. He doesn't respond to either."

"Did he stop all Internet activity?"

"No. He was certainly trying to keep up appearances. He visits a fantasy baseball site regularly, ESPN, news. Doesn't seem to follow politics that closely and really likes the Denver Rockies. Some of the other email strings do continue. One of his old buddies is in Iceland, and there are some joke emails going back and forth about their deployments."

"Can you trace the bug?"

"It's taking me a little time than I would like, and right now I'm swamped tracking the emails coming in to Garcia's account, trying to filter out the spam from the stuff that might be remotely important."

"Need some help?"

"Well, y'all are in Denver."

"We can swing you out here," Chris replied. Even over the screen, Gibbs looked slightly surprised. "H-ll, five of you are here already. Might as well finish me off."

* * *

MARY TRAVIS' HOME  
DENVER, CO

Kate shut the den door and stood there, eyes boring holes into the back of Gibbs' head. He didn't turn around, but started, "You - "

"I know, I know," Kate replied, coming to the desk. "'You never work the system when you can work the people.' You've been chatting up Billy Travis since we picked him up from school."

"So?"

"Larabee finds out you've been digging Billy for information, and you're going to be strung up like those horse traders you're descended from."

"Sounds like you'll miss me," Gibbs replied, an amused expression on his face. At her look, he sat back. "Billy and Mary Travis can provide us with the information that isn't in their files."

"I know that."

"Tell me about Larabee's background again."

"Former Navy SEAL - met Wilmington in the Navy - was with the Denver police department until his wife and his son were killed in a car bomb meant for him. There's a couple years when you don't hear anything. When Travis was asked to oversee one of the new specialty ATF teams, he took on Larabee. Their first case was a prostitution ring...some fellow named Wickes."

"For the ATF?" Gibbs said in disbelief.

"It most likely had something to do with alcohol...tobacco...firearms...or explosives." Kate shrugged, an amused smile on her face.

"But that's not the first time the team got together," Gibbs muttered. "That's only the first case on record since they were hired."

"How do you know?" Kate asked puzzledly.

"Ducky said something about them saving Travis' life. It wasn't just Larabee, it was all seven. That wasn't in the file."

Kate shut the folder. "You're right," she murmured. "I'll go talk to Mary, find out what she knows."

"Short rope, long drop," Gibbs commented with a smirk as she headed to the door. She made a face at his back.

* * *

ATF HEADQUARTERS

"Hey Chris," Kelly greeted as the door opened without even a knock. "How's the case going?"

"How long until you can clean up the Moitinho case?"

"Bust goes down tomorrow morning, and then we have the reports. Look, Larabee, we'll help as soon as we clear the books on that one."

"Right after the bust goes down."

Kelly shook his head. "No. My guys need rest, Chris."

"Next morning."

"What is going on?" Kelly asked sharply.

The blond's eyes flickered briefly around the room before he sat down. "Hopewell hired a Marine sniper. You should've seen his score. Off the charts."

Kelly whistled. "That explains NCIS."

"Not only that, he used to live in Denver. In Purgatorio, according to Vin and Josiah."

"They know him?"

"Oh, yeah. He's a legend - how he got out of the bad part of town, cleaned up, joined the Marines. Not only is no one going to believe he's doing this, he knows enough about the city and us and the Travises to keep a low profile."

"What do you want us to do?" Kelly asked, then amended, "after we close the Moitinho case."

"I need you to take over the protective detail on the Travises. Team 3 is covering it right now."

"They're good, Chris," Kelly replied, struggling to keep from smiling. Chris didn't trust other people, period.

"I. Don't. Care. I want somebody I know on that detail."

"No, you want somebody whom you can beat to a pulp if something goes wrong." Team 3 had two agents with politician parents. They were extremely skilled but had that cloud - sometimes of suspicion, sometimes of protection (and here, both) - over their heads.

Chris glared and continued. "Right now NCIS is watching Mary and Billy at home."

Kelly's eyes widened. Chris Larabee had handed over Mary and Billy Travis to another agency? Almost inadvertently he looked out the window, expecting Babe the sheepherding pig to fly by. The man didn't even trust his horse to his own teammates.

Well, that's for an entirely different reason, reminded a little voice in his head. They tried to dye it red.

Kelly paused, picking through his brain. "NCIS does protect high-ranking military officers," he commented, which only earned him a famous Larabee glare. "Chris. Agents Gibbs and Todd have better credentials than we do. What are you worried about?" He only got another glare in reply.

The Team 8 leader conceded with a sigh. Yes, dumb question. In Chris Larabee's world, things took a very different order. Whiskey ranked higher than food and black clothes were perfectly fine even in summertime, even if he were in the Congo.

Kelly headed out, thinking for the thousandth time that day that really, the man shouldn't have been given an ice cream scoop, much less a gun.

* * *

"Hey." Buck clapped a hand down on Tony's shoulder. "Where're all you staying while you're here? There's not a Navy base in sight."

"I don't know. Most likely some motel or something. Gibbs and Kate'll be staying at the Travises' for now, and Ducky's already at your director's home."

"Wanna come to JD and my place? You and the kid, too."

"Mr. Wilmington, I do not believe that is a good idea."

"Your place is called the CDC for a reason," Nathan agreed.

"The CDC?" McGee's eyes widened as he looked at JD, who stared back defiantly.

"Don't say it, probie," Tony warned, pointing the business end of a pen at the younger agent.

"I - I didn't say anything!"

"You were thinking it."

"Thinking what?"

"That I'd feel right at home," Tony replied, narrowing his eyes at the younger NCIS agent.

"All of you can move to the ranch if you want," Chris replied as he came out of the office. When the others looked up, he continued, "Until this is over I'm going nights to watch the Travises. Vin's going to watch the horses for me at the ranch, and it might be better if no one stays alone during this case, so you're welcome to stay with him there if you like."

Tony exchanged looks with McGee. Larabee looked more like he was agreeing to a root canal than he was making an offer.

"Thanks, pard!" Buck boomed, grinning as he clapped his old friend on the shoulder.

"I better not find chips smeared into my carpet," Chris replied in warning as he grabbed his jacket and headed out.

* * *

ORIN TRAVIS'S HOME  
DENVER, CO

"I thought it was rather silent in here," Evie Travis replied as she came in with a tray of steaming coffee. As Orin helped his wife, the ME stood out of politeness. "Don't tell me Ducky has run out of stories already."

The two men chuckled. "I'm afraid that Orin knows all of them, anyhow," Ducky replied, his eyes twinkling. "He could correct the details for me."

"Well, I'm going to turn in. Good night." She kissed her husband on the cheek and headed out.

"She seems to be doing well," Ducky commented when Orin's wife was out of earshot.

"I sometimes think Evie is more resilient than I," Orin replied quietly. "Unfortunately, she has taken in the boys as her own and gets just as worried as I do when they're on a bust and the phone rings."

Ducky smiled a bit sadly. "This brings back bad memories."

"I just keep thinking about Billy," Orin murmured. "To have both his parents killed as targets of - "

"He only lost one parent so far," Ducky interrupted severely. "I don't think your agents will let that happen, and Jethro and his team certainly won't stand idly by."

"I didn't mean to imply - " Orin started.

"I know you didn't." Ducky's voice softened a little. "But this type of thinking will not help anyone."

Orin nodded, taking the chastising in stride, and then he commented with a black-humor smile, "James died last year. Oh, two years, now."

Ducky nodded. "I know."

"I'm the only one left of my team - the six I worked with before we two began to work together."

Ducky smiled. "I know. I worked with many of them once, too, before we began to work together. Steve, James, Charlie." He paused, then with a small smile, "Everyone else is...falling over by the wayside, and here we are, you and I...sailing into the future."

"Yes... Here we are." Orin paused a moment, and then his face creased into a smile as he handed a mug of coffee to his old friend.

_TBC_


	4. Chapter 4

**The Mile High City Affair**

by Sammie

Disclaimer in part 1.

* * *

NEXT MORNING  
MARY TRAVIS'S HOME

That had to the fattest, most overfed chipmunk in the world.

Gibbs watched in amusement from inside the kitchen door as Mary Travis's young son squatted on the porch, watching the animal in fascination. Billy had given it a leftover roll from dinner the night before, and it was busily eating away, ignoring its benefactor watching nearby.

As Billy attempted to inch nearer, the chipmunk finally looked up at him suspiciously. The boy took another step forward, and the animal chomped down on what was left of the roll and ran off with it. Gibbs bit back a chuckle as the child sighed disappointedly, his early morning entertainment gone, and sat down on the top step of the porch. Barely a minute had gone by when he sighed again in boredom.

Gibbs wondered briefly where Larabee was; he doubted Billy would have gotten out of bed unless the child had heard his hero moving about first. Larabee had insisted - well, had glared - that he stay at the Travises' at night. It was a full house, with Larabee, Gibbs, and Kate all there.

With that, the NCIS agent stepped out onto the porch. "You're up early today."

The little boy's head shot up, his eyes wide, but settled when he saw the familiar face and smile. "I was gonna go out with Chris when he went to get some stuff, but he said I had to get ready for school." The little face creased into a frown. "I don't want to go to school."

Gibbs chuckled softly.

They lapsed into silence for a couple minutes, watching the sun come up. The little boy was playing with his small horse in his one hand, and in the other, a cruder version of the horse. Pointing to the unfinished carving, Gibbs asked gently, "Did you make that?"

Billy nodded, blushing. "I'm still working on it."

"It's very good. Carving is good to keep your hands busy."

Billy nodded. "Chris says that, too. He built me a whole Noah's ark!" he beamed. "Do you carve, too?"

"Kind of. I'm building a boat in my basement."

"Really?" Billy looked up in surprise and anticipation. "Can I ride in it when you're done?"

Gibbs chuckled. "Of course."

Billy held up his own carving and then the horse Chris had made him. "I can't get the ears."

"You're doing well enough. Did Chris teach you?"

"A little. My pa did, too." The boy fell silent again.

Gibbs smiled down at the child and said softly, "Betcha miss him a lot, hm?" There was no answer for awhile, and then the boy nodded, his head drooping even lower to his chest. "Hey." He turned Billy to look at him, seeing the child's tear-filled eyes. "It wasn't your fault, Billy."

"Sometimes I still dream about...it." Billy wiped a small, dirty back of the hand across his face, making small streaks of tears and dirt across his face. "The man shot Pa right in the stomach, and'n there was blood, and...Pa..."

"Tell yourself you won't dream about it."

"It won't work," Billy replied despairingly.

"Yes, it will," Gibbs replied, tilting his head so he could look the boy in the face. "Worked for me. I was your age when I saw something bad, too. Trust me. Close your eyes, and say, 'I won't dream about it.' Come on."

Billy nodded and obediently closed his eyes, whispering, "I won't dream about it."

He was about to swipe another dirty hand across his tears when Gibbs, smiling at him, pulled out a hankerchief and gently wiped away some of the tears and the dirt. "You OK?" When the boy only nodded, Gibbs leaned the child against his side and gently rubbed his back until the boy settled.

After a few minutes of silence, Billy whispered, "Is my ma going to die too?"

Well, so much for keeping any news from him.

Billy knew something was up, and there was no point in trying to deny it. Telling the child there were no bad guys was ridiculous; the boy knew better. He'd just have to keep it simple. Gibbs looked at him soberly and picked his words carefully. "We're going to catch the guy and try to keep your ma safe."

Billy nodded, accepting the answer, and Gibbs thought it was going to be over when he opened his mouth again, this time more fearfully, "Are they gonna kill Ma because I told?"

Gibbs blinked and then slowly turned to the boy, trying to stay as quiet as he had before. "Billy, what do you mean they're going to kill your ma because you told?"

Billy's voice trembled, and tears threatened again. "The devil said - he said that it was too bad I came back to my house," he choked out guiltily, and suddenly tears began falling down his face again, faster than he could wipe them away. "An' - an' he said if I said one word he'd kill Ma and that she couldn't hide from the devil. But Chris said they caught all the bad guys and that he wouldn't let the devil get me or my ma ever and that I should tell and not to worry 'cause the devil ain't beat him yet."

Out of the corner of his eye, Gibbs noticed Kate at the doorway to the kitchen, a look of heartbroken shock on her face. He looked up briefly at her, and she mouthed that Mary was looking for her son.

Mary would have to wait. Gibbs turned his attention back to the child, who had begun to hiccup, the words barely coming out between his sobs. "So I told the judge who killed my pa, and I was happy I did. And Chris and Ma and Gran'pa and Gran'ma said it would be OK!" Fresh tears poured out, and Gibbs quickly folded the boy into his arms, hugging him and gently rubbing the child's back, trying to calm him.

After a few moments, Gibbs gently pulled Billy up to look at him. "Billy, I want you to listen to me."

The boy nodded, wiping a hand across his face.

"Billy, we are not going to let the devil kill your ma. And this is not your fault. Chris and your ma and your grandparents were right - you should have told the judge who killed your father, and you did a good job. You did nothing wrong. You did well."

"But Ma - "

"You're not responsible for what happens to your ma," Gibbs replied firmly. "And it was important that you told me what happened. That way Chris and I will know who to look for in this case. You did good, Billy." He waited for the boy to at least acquiesce. "You did, Billy."

The boy nodded reluctantly.

"Why don't you go with Kate now, and get cleaned up, OK? Your ma's looking for you." He indicated his agent behind them, who gently held a hand out to the child.

Gibbs stared back out, turning over in his mind the new information. He could hear Kate's gentle, soothing tone murmuring to Billy over the running water from kitchen sink's faucet. He hadn't studied the case file on Stephen Travis' murder, but a tie between the two was quite possible.

He heard Billy's childish shout as he ran into the house, calling for his mother. The kitchen door opened, then squeak-slammed shut. After a moment, behind him, Kate said quietly, "He shouldn't be dealing with this. So when are you going to tell Mary?"

* * *

ATF HEADQUARTERS

"What's this about?" were the first words out of Larabee's mouth when they had gathered in the ATF bullpen.

Gibbs frowned. "This morning Billy told me a little about his father's murder."

"Billy?" Mary asked in puzzlement. She almost turned to look for her son, but then seemed to remember that the boy was at school, with Kate watching over him.

"He seems to think 'the devil' is going to kill you because he identified your husband's killer," Gibbs replied bluntly. He ignored the few winces he saw from his own agents and some of the ATF agents at his tone.

Mary looked stricken, almost uncertain what to do as she alternately had her face in her hands, then twitched. "I thought those had ended."

"What had ended?"

"The nightmares. He had a lot, especially in that year after his father's death. That's why I sent him to live with Orin and Evie. Too many ghosts here, at least at first." Mary looked up, her face now more determined. "What happened this morning?"

"Did you catch the man who killed your husband?"

"Yes," Chris cut in impatiently, and although Tony couldn't see his face, he could sense a Larabee glare about to come on. "Billy positively identified him. Now tell us what happened."

"He's under the impression that his mother's now a target because he told."

"I should've seen this coming," she murmured distraughtedly. "I should have done something."

"But we caught Stephen Travis' killers," Chris repeated, his eyes hardening and growing angry at the obvious injury to the boy. "How did they get to him again? And it doesn't explain this 'devil' talk."

"Children take at face value what they're told," Josiah explained. "In all likelihood, this has nothing to do with Billy's nightmares but this was an actual occurrence in his life at some point, in which he was threatened into silence by somebody who called himself the devil. Most likely it was one of the killers we caught."

"What do we do," Chris replied, in more a demand than a question.

Josiah thought a moment. "Mary, you and your in-laws need to sit him down and explain to him that 'devil' was actually a human killer and that he's been caught."

"I think Agent Larabee should also be there for this," Gibbs interjected. The NCIS agent didn't flinch at the surprised looks he got but continued to watch the ATF team boss with a piercing stare. "Billy needs to hear it from you as well as from his mother and his grandparents. And then you need to reassure him that you" he looked at Mary "are being protected."

Mary shook her head. "I tried to keep him from finding out. How did he find - "

"Ms. Travis," Gibbs interrupted. "Your little boy is beyond you being able to protect him from this kind of news. He's seen his father killed and his mother targeted for murder at least once, possibly more times. Larabee and his team are perpetually in the line of fire. He knows well that he can lose any of you at any time; you can't keep this from him anymore. What he needs to know is that you are protected. That's his only peace of mind."

Chris turned to her suddenly. "You said that your husband's murder was ruled a robbery."

"Yes." Mary obviously hadn't bought it. "You confirmed that it wasn't."

"Who took the case?" Chris asked.

"The Denver police, for awhile. They turned it over to the FBI when they thought there was something bigger going on."

At that, everyone was listening. "What?"

"The police thought something else was going on. They turned it over to the FBI, and the FBI declared it a robbery gone bad. When I started looking into Stephen's death more deeply, I went to the police to get their information. The FBI gave me the run-around."

Chris and Gibbs exchanged looks.

* * *

BROWN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL

Billy sat by the principal's office with his bookbag, Kate next to him. The buses had already pulled out for the early dismissal, and they were waiting for two of Team 3's agents to come and take them to the ATF office.

Kate looked down at the top of the small head, the boy sitting so quietly next to her, and felt a rage building inside. Wasn't it bad enough his own father was shot in front of him? They had to terrorize him, too, by threatening his mother? Tony had called to tell her the entire story - how Billy had ended up with post-traumatic stress disorder, recurring nightmares and amnesia induced by the event, how he had run away from home in a misguided attempted to protect Mary and keep her alive.

She gently wrapped a protective arm around the child, and he leaned against her trustingly for a moment before looking up and asking, "Ma said you used to protect the president. Is that true?"

Kate looked down at the big eyes earnestly looking up at her and teased gently, "You don't believe your ma?"

"Of course I believe my ma. I just never met a real Secret Service agent." Billy cocked his head at her, waiting for his answer.

"Yes, I used to be with the Secret Service and I protected the president."

"Cool!" Billy seemed to relax, then stiffened. "Then how come you're here with me and not with Ma?"

"Because right now your ma has got more then ten agents - including Chris - around her. She's just fine. So I get you." Kate smiled down at him, and he nodded seriously. "You're the cutest person I've ever protected," she teased, and he blushed as he scooted closer to her.

* * *

ATF HEADQUARTERS

"I've got an agent name," Buck announced as he came in, waving a folder. "Tom Verucchi with the FBI. He's the guy on the case."

"Which one?"

"Garcia. Lynn Koschesky, his senior agent, headed the Stephen Travis case for him. Veruccchi was on limited duty on the Travis case while he was being investigated." Buck shook his head. "He had broken protocol to save a kid's life. It might have nothing to do with Hopewell."

Chris picked up the folder from Buck's hand. "Ezra, Nathan, we're going to the FBI HQ. I have to talk to Kelly, so I'll meet you downstairs." He stopped over Gibbs. "Comin'? You can swing by the airport and pick up your lab technician on the way back."

The NCIS agent motioned to Tony and McGee, who quickly jumped up to follow. The five had just gone down to the ground floor in the elevator when the doors opened to reveal a stunning redhead. "Going up?"

"Oh, I am now," Gibbs replied with a smile.

Ezra and Nathan, already off the elevator, watched with unconcealed surprise; Tony scuttled an open-mouthed McGee off the elevator. All four watched as the doors shut behind Gibbs and the redhead.

Nathan turned to Tony, indicating the elevator with a hand. "Did I just see - ?"

"Gibbs has a thing for redheads," Tony muttered.

"He was flirting." McGee was nearly in shock. "I didn't even know he knew how!"

"He just hit on the wrong redhead," Nathan muttered. "That's Louisa Perkins, Clayton Hopewell's former campaign manager and one-time Buck Wilmington fiancée."

* * *

The elevator doors opened, and Louisa Perkins' laugher floated into the bullpen as she came in. "Thank you, Agent Gibbs, for escorting me." She smiled.

"No," Gibbs replied, "thank you." He turned a teasing smile on her.

Perkins' smile widened at that, and she was just about to turn around when Buck quickly took her arm. "Buck! It's so good to see you. I just met Jeth - "

"Miss Perkins," Josiah cut in quickly. "I'm sorry, I'll try to make this as quick as possible," he commented, steering the redhead from the bullpen into a conference room. He heard the elevator doors ding shut and thanked God that had been brief...who knew one redhead could inadvertently cause so many problems.

He set down a cup of tea in front of the former campaign manager. "How are you?"

"Fine, thank you."

"Still on the road, hm?" the profiler asked.

"That's the job," she smiled.

Josiah nodded. "Thank you for flying in. Massachusetts is a bit ways off."

"Not a problem. I can visit while I'm here," she replied with a smile, and the two chuckled. "Buck's doing well, it seems."

Josiah nodded, then continued, "Something's come up, and we need you to provide as much information as you can for us."

"On Clayton Hopewell."

"Yes." Josiah paused. "He's hired another sniper and our sources say Hopewell himself is already back in the outskirts of Denver, most likely to make another political run." He waved a hand. "Hence, the sniper to take out his opponents."

"Another run?" Perkins exclaimed in disbelief. "That's political suicide!" She thought for a moment, then amended with a chuckle, "as if he hadn't done that already."

"Do you remember anything from the time you worked over there."

She paused and thought for awhile. "Agent Sanchez, I'm really sorry. I managed his campaign - where he would stop, where he would speak, what he would say. I had no idea about the Stutzes the first time around. If I'd known, I never would have worked for him and I would have told somebody right away. And this has nothing to do with Ms. Travis. I may disagree with her, but - "

"I know," Josiah cut in gently. "I don't think any of us - Mary included - would ever suspect you of condoning any of this. I do need to know what else you might recall from your time working for Hopewell."

"His big agenda was the land rights and education. He wanted more funding for the inner-city schools and also for the rural districts." She nodded. "Yeah, I remember him adding that latter part after he met with some teachers from Denver. One of the poor rural districts."

She paused, then continued. "You ought to ask your Ms. Travis. She might have covered it. I remember the one teacher who impacted him most was this woman who hadn't said anything for almost an hour. Then, near the end of the discussion, she made this comment about money and smaller classes not being a permanent solution or solving the root problem, something about needing deeper changes, then a muttered comment about politicians and theorists telling teachers how to teach their classes."

Josiah stiffened. "What did Hopewell say?"

"Said he would want somebody like that on his staff," Perkins smiled. "He talked with her for awhile afterwards. They seemed to get along well. Hopewell talked to her privately a few more times before I quit."

"Her name?"

Louisa looked up, slightly surprised at the sudden interest. "Rebekah Lawrence, why?"

* * *

FBI HEADQUARTERS  
DENVER, CO

"It would have been nice if you had contacted us first," Chris nearly shouted at Verucchi. "Considering this is our case."

"Garcia crossed state borders, putting it in our jurisdiction," Verucchi returned calmly.

"He's a hired assassin and Marine, which puts it in ours and NCIS's!" Chris retorted.

"Mr. Verucchi," Ezra replied smoothly. "You do understand that Garcia is a Denver resident. He might be flying from Hawaii, but he is still within the state borders of Colorado and thus, out of your jurisdiction."

Chris just smirked at the FBI agent, who scowled and replied, "Technicality."

"Sounds like a good one to me," Gibbs replied, an amused look on his face.

"I offered a shared investigation," Verucchi replied.

"That only works if we lead," Gibbs replied.

The man looked between the two teams of agents, obviously unhappy about it. "Fine."

Chris held out a hand, and Verucchi placed a fat folder in it. "Give me the Cliff's Notes."

"Garcia's a sniper hired by Hopewell. Working with a spotter, an accomplice."

Six pairs of eyes shot up to Verucchi's. The agent smirked, having caught them by surprise. "Our sources tell us he's got a spotter. Snipers use them regularly. Find Garcia, find his accomplice."

"Any ideas?" Tony asked.

"It would have to be somebody he'd trust to watch his back against the likes of all of us. Somebody who knows the area, too. My guess is, somebody who could tell Garcia what's changed and what hasn't since he left."

* * *

ATF HEADQUARTERS

"What does Beckie have to do with this?" Mary asked, frowning, turning her attention from her son, who was playing computer games at JD's desk a few desks away.

"'Beckie'?" Josiah replied, eyeing the reporter carefully. "How do you know her?"

"I told Mary 'bout her," Vin replied.

"I was doing an article," Mary replied. "I'd heard that one of the inner-city districts didn't allow for their teachers to live outside of the district, and Beckie turned out to be a great case in point. She had already bought a house before she started looking for a job, and so she couldn't be hired at the inner-city district she went to school in because her house was outside district lines."

"Have you seen her house?" Kate asked.

"Yeah, I've been in it," Mary replied.

"Did you ask her how she paid for it?" JD asked. "It's a really nice house."

"She's the niece of Daniel Bordelais," Mary replied. "They bought the house for her with the last of her inheritance money."

"You'd think she could make her own choices 'bout her money," Vin muttered.

"With a family rich as that," JD cut in with a tone that seemed to indicate he more than knew what he was talking about, "the ties last longer than you'd think."

"So Beckie Lawrence knows you," Josiah replied, his tone turning dark.

"Yes," Mary replied, nodding. "Why?"

* * *

"Did he come out alive?" Kate quipped when the six had returned to the office, Abby in tow.

"Them two?" Tony asked incredulously as he indicated Gibbs and Chris. "Need you ask?"

"I'm talking about the FBI agent," Kate replied as she continued to warm her hands on her coffee mug.

Ezra merely chuckled as he returned to his desk, rolling out his chair. "Attila the Hun and Genghis Khan decided to hold off on the rampage - for now. Miss Todd," he changed the subject as he indicated the coffee she was about to sip. "I...wouldn't."

Kate set down the coffee with a slightly puzzled, slightly suspicious look. "Something wrong with it?"

"Vin made it," chorused five voices. The sniper scowled at them all.

Kate frowned, then took a tiny sip; her eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Wow," she squeaked.

Gibbs plucked the mug out of her hands and took a long drink. The other ATF agents stared open-mouthed as he handed the mug back to Kate and shrugged. "What's wrong with it?"

"Thank you," Vin muttered, glaring at his teammates.

In bounced Abby, leaving her bags by the door. "Hey guys!" she greeted with her usual cheerful enthusiasm. "I think this is the first time I've been out of my lab on a case."

"I told you you needed to get out more," Tony grinned, and she returned one as she introduced herself to the other ATF agents.

"All right," Chris replied, interrupting. "What did you get, Josiah?"

"Hopewell knew Lawrence," the profiler replied. "Met her at some conference set up with the teachers across the state. He was impressed enough for Louisa to remember her." He paused, then replied heavily, "Other thing is that Mary knows Rebekah. Interviewed her for an article, has been in her home."

The six agents exchanged worried looks, and Tony leaned forward. "We talked to the FBI agent in charge. His sources tell him Garcia has an accomplice, most likely somebody he knows well and trusts and somebody who has knowledge of the city's changes since he left."

The room grew quiet before Kate finally ventured, "That still doesn't mean Rebekah Lawrence has something to do with this."

"Abby," Gibbs replied curtly. "What did you find on Lawrence?"

"She's a civilian, no military ties except through Garcia. No police record. No tickets. Not even missed payments on a car or a house. We're talking cleaner than clean, whiter than white. If you put her in a lineup with snow, snow is going to jail."

"She'd make the perfect accomplice," Gibbs replied.

Chris nodded. "Buck. Josiah. Go out to New York, interview Daniel Bordelais. I want to know everything he knew about his niece."

Next to him, Gibbs looked at Tony and inclined his head towards the door. The three agents got up and hurried out.

Chris looked as if he were about to say something, then didn't, instead picking up his ringing cell phone. "Larabee." The agents watched as his expression grew darker. "Yeah." He snapped the phone shut with a clack that made JD wince visibly. "They just found Garcia. He's in a hotel room fifty miles out. The police have just surrounded the place; they're not going to do anything until we get there."

* * *

MOTEL  
OUTER LIMITS OF DENVER

Below them, the other agents had covered all the exits, having cleared the nearby rooms. Vin signaled the two men when they were all in place.

Gibbs knocked on the door. "Gunnery Sergeant Garcia! Open the door! NCIS!" The two men waited tensely for a response, getting none. "NCIS! Open up!" After another moment, he nodded to the motel manager.

The nervous little man quietly slid the key into the door, unlocking it; Gibbs and Larabee were inside almost at the same time the door opened. They cleared the bathroom, right next to the door, and the open closet; then they entered the bedroom.

"H-ll," Chris muttered, his weapon still pointed directly in front of him. "Wasn't expectin' that."

"Oh boy. We got a major problem," Gibbs breathed.

_TBC_


	5. Chapter 5

**The Mile High City Affair**

by Sammie

Disclaimer in part 1.

* * *

MOTEL

Nathan zipped shut the bag holding Garcia's body. "Well, we're done here."

"So're we," Vin replied as he snapped the last photo and surveyed the room, nearly stripped bare. "Mattress's in the truck."

"Good timing, too," Nathan commented. "You guys expecting company?" He pointed out the window, where a FBI truck had just pulled up.

Gibbs and Larabee exchanged looks.

A cleaning man with his head held low pushed his large cart past the FBI team onto the elevator and soon disappeared, going down to the first floor. Farther down, an elderly man was talking animatedly to a tall black man in a cap as they carried their bags downstairs. An unmarked van backed up near the elevator.

FBI agent Tim Bickerstaff and his teammates moved to the next door, opening it with the master key. Empty. He scowled and move to the next door. None noticed when the cleaning man pushed his now much lighter cart behind a wall and jumped into the van, closing the door as it pulled out.

* * *

TWO HOURS LATER  
ATF HEADQUARTERS

"I didn't appreciate that little stunt." Verucchi frowned.

"Eh, no harm, no foul," Gibbs replied, a tiny smile of amusement playing at his lips.

"I'm having my men retrieve the body," Verucchi continued. "Direct orders from the Denver FBI director."

"Oh," Gibbs asked, looking around. "Is he here, somewhere?"

"I don't have time for this," the FBI team boss retorted. "You know that you don't have our resources."

"If I were stranded on an island, I'd rather have MacGyver than James Bond," Kate commented from her chair. At a few raised eyebrows, she shrugged, smiling. "Two great-looking guys, but one can build a car out of a palm tree and the other has to have some Mercedes with rockets dropped in front of him."

"If you were stranded with Gibbs, he could just build a boat," Tony snarked, grinning.

Verucchi cleared his throat with a growl.

* * *

"Pack up the body," Bickerstaff said shortly to his agents, pointing the man with the gurney towards the body on the slab.

Ducky moved with a speed that surprised even the FBI agents. "I am doing the autopsy," the ME said sharply. "Gunnery Sergeant Garcia was a Marine."

"And you'll stop us, old man?" laughed one of the agents. Bickerstaff glared down at the medical examiner, who narrowed his eyes at them and stood his ground.

"Is there a problem, Doctor?"

The FBI team turned to see some of Larabee's boys at the door. Chris stepped forward leisurely, a tiny but feral smile on his face. He reminded Ducky of a hungry panther who had just spotted a herd of sheep. Fat, dumb, and very...vulnerable sheep. The ME wondered briefly if he would have to clean up more tables for some more bodies.

"You stay out of this," Bickerstaff shot at him. "This is the FBI's undercover man and thus, our body."

"This is my building," Chris drawled slowly, watching Bickerstaff with a predatory smile.

Behind them, Buck maneuvered into the autopsy room, a wide, amused grin on his face. He clapped one of the FBI agents on the back so hard the man stumbled a bit. "I'll think up somethin' nice to say at yer funeral."

"Don't strain yer brain muscles," came an amused Texan voice from the autopsy table where Garcia lay. Ducky nearly jumped. How had Vin managed to slip in without him noticing? It was as unsettling as Gibbs' tendency to materialize out of thin air.

"Who're you, anyhow?" JD asked.

"Special Agent Tim Bickerstaff," the man replied, a smug grin on his face, expecting some kind of comment.

Buck paused a moment, pretending to think. "Hint?"

Bickerstaff shouted indignantly, "Dan McQuitty, 'the Scream' killer. That was me. I brought him in."

JD gasped in mock admiration. "Was McQuitty the bad guy in the 'Scary Movie' series? He was hilarious," he said in pretended excitement, grinning when they saw Bickerstaff nearly shake with indignation.

Larabee took another casual step into the autopsy room, the dangerous grin still on his face. Perhaps that was even more unnerving than a mad Chris Larabee, because Bickerstaff looked at him, and then at Ducky, and headed out. And to think, the ME mused a little guiltily, he had playfully accused Orin of exaggerating when the director described his first encounter with Larabee.

"H-ll, cowboy, why don'tcha just glare 'stead of talkin' next time?" drawled the Texan, blue eyes dancing merrily.

* * *

"All we did was take the body and the evidence," McGee muttered when Verucchi had gone. "What's his problem?"

"That's because Garcia's dead," finally spoke up a voice. "I'm FBI Special Agent Lynn Koschesky," she introduced herself. "I know why Tom isn't telling, but I'm going to do it anyhow."

"Tell what?" Gibbs asked.

"Michael Garcia was undercover for the FBI," she replied, and jaws dropped. "We want Hopewell behind bars as much as you, so we asked Garcia two years ago to see if he would agree to help us."

"And you didn't tell us?" Standish asked sharply.

"We wanted to do this subtly," Koschesky shot back. "Chris Larabee is not exactly the king of subtlety."

"The FBI believed a Marine would be a good pretender?" Kate asked.

"When I met him, he seemed to me a Marine through and through," Koschesky said. "Love of country, sense of the duty, blah blah blah. He even had the grouchy Marine gunny thing down." There were a couple snickers at that, and Koschesky grinned until Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"We thought he wouldn't be able to pretend well enough, but he was great. More than that, he had the bad background," she continued. "Verucchi really pushed, and Garcia could deliver. He knew the underside of Purgatorio and he could shoot. We can make up a fake record for a sniper, but Hopewell would want to see for himself.

"The Marines agreed to let him help us out. We had to get him 'suggested' into the criminal circles for Hopewell to pick him up. About half a year ago, Garcia was hired. Hopewell told him to bide his time, and so he did." She shrugged. "I don't know why he chose now to do it."

"What happened to make you go after him?"

"Mike was supposed to check in with us when he got to Denver. He was always on time, most of the time early. We got worried when he was late - started tracking him within an hour," Koschesky replied. "He just disappeared. No contact, no nothing."

"Why?"

Koschesky shook her head helplessly. "I can only think of some reasons. He felt somebody was on to him, so he ran to protect the operation; he knows something we don't." She paused a moment, then muttered, "He went rogue."

"You buy that?"

"Look. I don't like this any more than you do, but Hopewell was offering him 1.5 million. It was enough to make anyone turn." She sighed. "Verucchi thinks he got bought. Like he says - the man who can be bought by money is the most dangerous."

* * *

NCIS HEADQUARTERS  
WASHINGTON, DC

"Sir?" The NCIS director looked up to see his secretary at the door. "Call for you, line 2." She smiled sympathetically. "It's ATF Assistant Director Travis, sir. I think he's having a bad day. He's mumbling something about body-snatching."

Tom Morrow chuckled. If there were awards for most tolerant and put-upon agency directors, he and Travis would be neck and neck. It was a rare week where one did not call to vent frustration to a sympathetic ear. It was much cheaper than therapy; as if a psychologist would actually believe their stories.

"Well, I got angry phone calls from the FBI and the Secret Service last night. One of my agents locked the FBI off Air Force One and the other, with help from my medical examiner, stole a dead body from the plane."

How did it make Tom feel? Good, of course. D-mn, he had smart agents. But he was sure the psychiatrist would only file a formal request to have Gibbs and his team in his doctor's office. Or maybe straight to a padded room with no get-out-free card.

He was impressed by how long Orin had held out with both teams in Denver. He had really expected a phone call much earlier than this. Morrow wondered if Orin had already shot Larabee and Gibbs and had been subsequently treated to a ticker-tape parade by the city's residents; no, of course not. That would mean the good citizens had already forgiven Orin first for letting a body-snatching team with a overly chatty ME run rampant in Denver with a group which had an inordinate affection for beer, had a cigarillo-smoking, trigger-happy boss, and loved playing with all sorts of dynamite...

Was he the only one who was eternally amused that Larabee's team worked for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives?

Morrow chuckled to himself. He was sure Travis' payback would be hell, but for the moment, the peace and quiet - no Anthony DiNozzo - were worth it. He grinned as he hit the button for line 2 and listened to the click to indicate he was connected. "Hi Orin." He hoped he didn't sound too guilty.

"Keep Gibbs at home next time!" _click_

* * *

ATF HEADQUARTERS

"What do you think, Doctor?" Larabee asked, leaning over, peering at the body.

"I don't know, and I won't for hours."

"Suicide. He's got gunshot wound straight to the temple. The gun was just inches from his hand."

"Perhaps. I sent everything else up to Abby with your Agent Jackson." Ducky continued to examine the body with the large magnifying glass. "Ah, for you to go when while in the bloom of your youth," the ME lamented to the dead Marine. "It's always difficult for those who are left. I'm afraid your Miss Lawrence might not take the news so well."

Chris pressed his lips into a thin line, biting back a comment designed to end the conversation right then and there. The ME was harmless and actually full of information when one picked through the stories - not unlike Ezra. Besides, he had no desire to offend the Travises' oldest family friend.

"Mary, the dear girl - after Stephen died, she was so hurt and angry," Ducky rambled on. "She was so sure his death was more than a robbery gone wrong, but people told her she was in denial, not allowing herself to grieve." He humphed. "This from 'friends' and other self-appointed comforters."

"She was right," Chris offered shortly.

"Ah, so she was." Ducky carefully cut something off the body, then pointed the business end of scalpel across the body at the ATF agent. "I sometimes suspect she envies you your freedom." Larabee didn't respond, but a brief flicker of surprise crossed his face; satisfied, Ducky continued talking and working. "She was so happy to have Billy, you know, but her hands were tied. It wouldn't do for the daughter-in-law of Orin Travis to traipse around the state on a self mission to find her husband's murderers, you know. Orin and Evie would have supported her in full, but Mary," Ducky sighed as he continued to work. "She wanted to go, but she did not want to cause trouble for them or poor Billy. Imagine! Children at his school - gossiping at that age!"

Ducky turned out the room lights and picked up a blue light to start examining the body. His younger companion had become rather quiet - quiet, not the usual glaringly silent - and Ducky smiled to himself. "Go home, Chris. Get some sleep," he admonished gently. "I would if I could. It won't do you much good to be here, anyhow."

* * *

MARY TRAVIS'S HOME

Mary was sitting on the top step of the back porch, her back to the lighted kitchen. Chris stuck his hands in his pockets, looking out into the gathering dusk, and finally stepped out onto the porch quietly. She didn't turn around, even when he sat down next to her.

They sat in silence for awhile, just the usual night sounds filling the quiet. Chris almost didn't hear it when she finally spoke. "I thought by the time Ducky came again I'd be over it."

She folded her hands into her lap almost nervously, trying to maintain her composure. "We just talked - all of us - just on and on since he's come...about him and Orin, all the time they spent together working, and...Stephen. Ducky was...Stephen's godfather," she said softly, her voice in a whisper. "When Stephen and I were married...Ducky was...because my parents were gone, he walked me down the aisle. Seeing Ducky just..."

Chris only nodded, not saying anything. He knew how it felt. For the first year after they had begun to work together again, seeing Buck meant seeing the ghosts of his wife and his son, even though he had had a long history with the ladies' man before he even met Sarah. It wasn't until he and Buck had a mutual history, built on memories with Team 7, that he could look at his old friend and not feel the pain of the loss of his family...and perhaps the same was true of Buck.

When he looked over at Mary, she was impatiently trying to blink back a few tears. After a few moments, she said, "I'm fine, Chris. You can go back inside."

"I'm fine, Mary."

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence. Behind them, they could hear the chatter going on, Orin telling stories about his times with Ducky, much to the amusement of Kate and McGee, and Ezra's cultured Southern voice commenting on how they'd have to get Ducky to talk, too, about his times with Orin - because wouldn't the good doctor have fine stories about their 'esteemed assistant director.'

At that, Chris and Mary laughed out loud, Chris shaking his head. "He never gives up," he offered, and Mary smiled a little. It was the first time all day that she had smiled; at least Ezra was good for something.

He looked over at her, Ducky's words still ringing in his head. He gave her a sidelong glance, almost seeing the woman tromping around dressed in all black with an itchy trigger finger, drinking hard whiskey and shooting anybody who got in her way. It was an intensely amusing image...and, he had to admit, slightly unsettling, at least for him. Mary was always the emotionally stable one.

For the first time, he entertained the notion that she really was envious of him, as the ME had proposed. "I, uh, want to apologize. For something I said. Although at the time, it felt...justified."

Mary looked at him as if he'd just grown another head, and Chris groaned inwardly. He was NOT that tactless. "That day in Gloria Potter's store, when you attempted to...talk to me."

She immediately began to protest: "Chris, no, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so presumptuous as to assume things and to meddle. It's - "

"Yeah, but I shouldn't have presumed to know what it was like for you as a woman, or that you had it easier than I did."

"Chris - "

"H-ll, Mary, can't you just accept the apology!"

At that, the blonde blinked in surprise, and then the corners of her mouth quirked up in a small smile, which grew. "An apology. I'm impressed." For just that moment, her green eyes lost the sadness there and laughed, dancing at him.

Chris smiled at her. "Don't tell the others." His grin widened, and she herself laughed this time.

* * *

NEXT MORNING, 5 AM  
ATF HEADQUARTERS

"Coffee and doughnuts in the kitchen," Buck announced as he and Tony bumped into the rest of the still groggy agents. "Chris called about finding Garcia. Do you know what happened?"

"Not yet. How come you're not tired?" JD yawned as they stepped onto the elevator.

"We slept on the flight over," Tony replied. "Have we got news for you."

Buck swallowed a bite of doughnut. "Lawrence...had a lot of trouble fitting in. Klutzy, shyly quiet, and hated dresses - tripped on her skirt, fell down the stairs once at a party. Not the way to go when her uncle and her step-aunt had to do business and society parties almost every week."

"Wonderful guardians," Ezra replied in a bitter tone, one that made the NCIS agents look up in slight surprise at the vehemence.

"Actually," Buck corrected gently, "They knew a lot about her - her likes, her dislikes. They knew about Garcia and would always let him stay when he had leave, to visit her. Their worlds were just too different."

"Here's the kicker. Bordelais said she spent time at a local high school rifle league during her high school years," Tony continued as the doors dinged open. "Her former boss says that she took a real keen interest in rifling and got really good at it target shooting."

* * *

"Ah! Jethro," the ME greeted as the agents trooped in. "I have nothing concrete, I'm afraid. I was hoping for some needle marks, but I found none."

Tony frowned. "Duck. He's got a huge gaping bullethole in his head. Wouldn't that be how he died?"

"While we cannot yet rule out suicide," Ducky replied, "I rather suspect that our Marine did not kill himself. All of you have mentioned already he apparently showed no signs of suicidal tendencies. I think suicide would be quite a shock to both his friends and even to him."

Nathan nodded. "If you remember, there were no signs of a struggle when we entered the hotel room, and Dr. Mallard and I found the hair at the temple kind of burned - meaning the muzzle was right next to his head. That made us think that he had killed himself. But...that could also mean he knew his attacker, if he was murdered. The shot is to his temple. He's a Marine. He had to have tried something to get away, unless he had been doped up. We thought maybe somebody stuck him."

"There were no needle marks, however," Ducky continued. "Even so, the suicide theory is somewhat difficult to explain. Look at the blood spatters on his arm." He pointed at a trail. "See, this trail goes all the way up to his wrist, but this one right next to it stops abruptly. There's a few more like it. It's...it's like something is partly covering his hand when he shot himself." He held up the photos taken of Garcia at the crime scene. "We sent his clothes up to Abby, but you can see from the photos - the missing blood droplets aren't on the clothes.

"And look at how the blood is flowing down his arm from the shot," Ducky continued, pointing at the photo. "There are two trails. One flowing directly down his arm, as if he had shot himself while he was sitting up - as we found him. However, take a look at this one." Ducky pointed at a miniscule thin red line on the arm. "See, this tiny trail doesn't flow from his shoulder to his hand, as one would expect."

"It just kind of starts at the shoulder, with no origin," Gibbs muttered. "And then it flows down toward his torso."

"Now consider this." Ducky waved them over to the body and gently turned the face to the side. "See, all along here, take a look at the skin...and the slight depressions. It's like this all along his right side." At their puzzled looks, he smiled conspiratorially. "What if I told you the time of death was approximately 0730 local time?"

Chris looked at the doctor in disbelief. "He was sleeping?"

Ducky smiled proudly. "Yes!" he emphasized with a wave of his arm. "I do not know if it is possible to test this, but if the fellow slept on his side, he might also be somewhat heavier along the left. When one sleeps, the weight is distributed evenly alongside that sleeping area. That's why some people have very flat heads, at least in the back, if they - "

"Duck!" Gibbs cut him off. "If he was sleeping, why wouldn't he have heard his attacker come in? He's a Marine."

"We sent up the blood to Abby to be tested," Nathan replied, the implication unspoken.

* * *

Abby clicked on the computer, bringing up some lab work on the screen. "He had a high blood-alcohol content - it was...much higher than usual. It was kind of strange."

"He was drinking on the job?" McGee asked in disbelief.

Abby grinned as she held up a bagged soda bottle. "I sucked up the last bits of soda from the inside of the empty bottle and tested for them. High alcohol content, but he didn't taste it."

She turned back to her computer, bringing up another chart. "The bottle had Everclear in it. It's this tasteless, no smell but really strong alcohol. I remember in college, when there was a shortage of drinks, the people hosting a party used to put some into the drinks. I mean, you're talking people lying in the barf on the - "

"Abby! Was there anything else?" Gibbs interrupted.

"Yeah," Abby replied, turning back to the computer. "Whoever mixed up the drink did really, really well. It didn't come up the first time around." She clicked up a screen. "There are trace, trace amounts of Rohepnol in the water. I didn't even get it the first time and didn't run the test again until Nate came by with Ducky's theory."

"What did you get on the weapons?"

"I haven't gotten there yet. But I think it's pretty safe to say that Gunny Garcia was knocked off." Abby tilted her head at them. "You've got another suspect you don't know about."

* * *

"Thanks. No, that's good. Bye." Kate hung up the phone and turned, her smile wide. "That was just Agent Owens. He talked to Garcia's Marine buddies. They said Garcia doesn't drink because he becomes a sleepy drunk. The one time they ever saw him drink, they hauled him home after just three and he was dead to the world; the next morning, they were almost afraid he'd died, he was sleeping so deeply."

"So whoever it was put in just enough of the alcohol imitator and the Rohepnol to knock Garcia out for the night," Nathan said, leaning forward. "So they can get in and out of the hotel room without him hearing."

"That has to mean that whoever it was knew Garcia well - a close friend," McGee suddenly spoke up. When they all turned to him, he stammered, "Well, I mean, they had to know he was a sleepy drunk." He blinked, then continued in a more animated, faster tone. "I mean, for example, me. I don't know Garcia, so if I wanted to drug him really badly, I'd use the Rohepnol through and through and skip the alcohol." He paused. "I mean...not that I would drug Garcia. Or anybody else. I'm just giving an example of - and it's...it's just a theory."

There was a long silence, and McGee fidgeted.

"Nice, probie," Tony clapped him on the back. "We'll make a real agent out of you."

* * *

Abby turned, her glasses still on. "Whoever did this was either very smart or very dumb." She held up the hotel notepad first. "This is the hotel letterpad. There are never a lot of sheets on a pad."

"Because people steal 'em?" Tony commented with a grin, and Abby's own smile widened in agreement.

"Anyhow, here's what I got." She typed quickly and brought it up onto the screen. "From the depressions of the writing into the pad, I was able to bring up the text of some of the above sheets, the ones that are missing."

After a pause, Kate said in confusion, "It looks like it was the same letter written a few different times."

Abby turned around with a gleam of accomplishment in her eyes. "Yup." She held up the bagged suicide note. "It's multiple copies of the note you found - the one that was unfinished and squished between the bag and the wastebasket, all addressed to Rebekah Lawrence."

"That doesn't make any sense," Tony frowned. "He addresses the suicide note to a specific person in letter-form and then writes it several different times?"

"I think we can assume it might not be a suicide note," Josiah replied. "It shows no evidence of being as such, and the only reason we thought it was a suicide note was because we thought he'd committed suicide."

Abby nodded. "All the note says is not to believe everything she sees on the news about him and that he promises to let her know more in a more secure venue - even if he personally can't do it, he'll let her know. It's not a typical suicide note."

"He explains an undercover assignment to a civilian in one letter he writes four times? Why so many?"

The agents exchanged looks of puzzlement, and then Vin said quietly, "I done it." The others turned sharply, and the sniper shifted a little on his feet. "Pro'bly just a habit," Vin explained in a soft voice. "If'n Mike wasn't good at writin' and he had to write a long letter to Beckie 'bout what was happenin' without tellin' too much - explainin' he wasn't really rogue 'n all that - he'd haveta write and rewrite." The sniper turned red a little at the incredulous looks he was getting. "I gotta write rough copies of thank you cards 'fore I write 'em for real, or I mess up. Beckie suggested it."

"So where are all the other letters he wrote? We only picked out a crumpled up one. There's at least three more," JD said in puzzlement.

Chris suddenly spoke. "Hopewell. Whoever killed Garcia got the other copies and most likely took it to Hopewell."

"Do you have anything on the weapons?"

Abby nodded. "The only fingerprints on the Remington rifle and the Sig Sauer were Garcia's. No other prints, and Garcia's fingerprints weren't even smudged."

"So he shot himself...by accident? In the head?" JD asked in confusion and mounting frustration.

"Maybe not." Gibbs stepped forward, closer to the screen. "Your Sig Sauer's the same model," he said, holding out a hand to Kate. He wiped down the gun she handed him. The silver-haired agent then crooked his finger at Kate to come over. "Abby, do you have anything that will let Kate leave very visible prints on the weapon?"

"'Course. I'd just have to..." Abby looked around the unfamiliar ATF lab "...look for it."

Chris frowned, then left the room and came back a little later with blackboard erasers from the next room. "These should work well enough for your purpose."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow as a tiny smile crossed his face. He took an eraser. "Kate, left hand." She obligingly held out her left hand and Gibbs dusted her fingers with the chalk dust. He then snapped on gloves and unloaded the clip from Kate's weapon, then held it out to her. "Pick it up naturally and hold the barrel to your temple, like we thought Garcia had done."

"If you don't want me around, Gibbs, you could just fire me," Kate joked as she lifted the weapon to her head. Gibbs pinched two fingers around the barrel, and Kate opened her hand to let go.

Gibbs held up the weapon, Kate's white chalk fingerprints clear against the black metal.

"They're not even close to being in the same places," McGee muttered after looking at Abby's picture of the prints and Kate's on the gun.

Gibbs handed Kate a paper towel and waited for her to wipe her fingers. Then he held up the bagged weapon. "Put your fingers where the fingerprints are."

Kate placed her fingers right there on the spots and tried to hold up the gun. She shook her head. "You can't hold it." She paused a moment as understanding dawned. "Based on where these prints are, Garcia wouldn't be able to hold the gun at all, much less to his head," she said carefully as she turned to Gibbs, whose expression confirmed her guess. "Somebody pressed the gun into his hand to make it seem like he'd killed himself."

"He was murdered," Larabee summed up. "He was undercover, he got found out, and he was killed by somebody who knew him well enough to drug him up, took our letter of evidence, and set it up to look like a suicide."

"H-hold on," JD suddenly blurted. "That DoD overwrite we were wondering about when we started. He's got computer friends; he could have gotten it. Maybe he didn't get them to overwrite the hard drive - "

" - because he WANTED somebody to find that information!" McGee exclaimed, looking at JD, who was nodding in agreement. "He made it look like he was attempting to cover his tracks when he was really leaving a small trail for us to find. The question is, who did he want us to find."

"Bring in Lawrence," Gibbs instructed.

"Now?" Kate asked in disbelief.

Gibbs turned, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "School hasn't started yet. You want to arrest her in her school?" Josiah, Kate, and McGee started heading out. "Put her in interrogation."

"She isn't your only problem," spoke a grim voice from the doorway. The agents turned to see Ryan Kelly; the look on his face was not a good one. "You guys left the Travis house too early to get the paper," he said as he came in. "One of my agents just picked it up." He held up that day's copy of the _Clarion_ to the front page's huge headline.

'FBI's undercover Marine found murdered'

_TBC_


	6. Chapter 6

**The Mile High City Affair**

by Sammie

Disclaimer in part 1.

Thanks for the reviews and the suggestions! I'd only ever seen "Hawaii" once, so I wasn't aware they were local PD, not state. Thank you for the heads up.

* * *

THE _CLARION_ NEWSPAPER OFFICE

Buck turned into the parking lot. "I never would've thought Beckie and Crowell were in on it."

"We don't know if Crowell's on Hopewell's payroll yet. His info might be from somewhere else," Tony replied from the backseat.

"Whatever source it is," Ezra replied, "it was excellent. He knew Garcia was a Marine, undercover, working for the FBI, and murdered. We only located the body last night. I'd certainly like to know what source told him so early that he had the chance to pen that article."

"It could get ugly," Buck muttered. "And I do hate ugly." He and the others looked out at the lot, with cars everywhere and reporters all trying to talk to Brian Crowell, who was heading toward them and out to his car.

Tony adjusted his holster. "Let me handle this."

"Why you?"

"Well," Tony said in a "duh" tone, "he obviously has a problem with the ATF. Maybe he won't with NCIS."

"Riiight," Buck said doubtfully. "You're a fed. What's the difference?"

Tony smirked. "Most people think I'm with a radio station." His smile fell a little. "Or they think I'm a CSI."

"Mr. DiNozzo, the Crowells require finesse and subtlety during dealings."

Tony looked insulted. "I can be subtle." He popped open the door.

Buck and Ezra watched as Tony approached the reporter flashing his big grin and making friendly gestures. "Twenty says he botches it," Buck said.

"No bet."

x x x x x

"Why don't we discuss this in private over there?" Tony smiled, his teeth gritting and grinding behind the smile as Crowell swore - again - at him. "I'm sure we can discuss this like two gentlemen."

"There's only one here," Crowell sneered, starting to put his key into the car door.

Tony made a face. "Look. We think you might know...more than you put in the article, and we'd...greatly appreciate it if you could provide us that information."

"You can take that thought and shove it where the sun doesn't shine," Crowell snarled, taking a swing at Tony and catching him off guard, landing one to the side of his face. The keys still in the reporter's hand sliced the agent's face. Tony barely managed to grab his arm and force it down in time before he swung again.

"Oops, watch the car," Tony offered helpfully as he bonked Crowell's head directly into the SUV's side.

x x x x x

Both ATF agents winced when Crowell's head impacted the car. "That's gotta hurt," Buck mumbled.

"Mr. DiNozzo has all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop." Ezra shook his head.

"Haveta agree with ya there," Buck nodded.

"Pot, kettle, kettle, pot," Ezra muttered under his breath. "They're coming," he suddenly said, indicating DiNozzo, who was steering a now slightly more cooperative Crowell, who was holding his head, over to the car. Ezra frowned, looking a little surprised at Tony's face, and smiled genially at the man as he got out of the car, adjusting his tailored suit. "Mr. Crowell, how kind of you to agree to help us." He pulled out a small bottle of aspirin. "Aspirin?" he offered helpfully.

Crowell let loose with a string of curses, all the while holding a hand to his head.

"Your ma oughta wash your mouth out with soap, boy," Buck muttered.

"Please, Mr. Wilmington, have some sympathy for Mr. Crowell's plight. A headache is nothing to sneeze at."

Crowell glared. "You feds think you can do this to reporters. Look at my head! I'll have a lawsuit against you."

"Look at that," Buck retorted, pointing at Tony's face. "Consider it a bonding experience and we'll leave it at that." He opened the door to the back, and Tony pushed Crowell in, tipping him onto his side.

Ezra rolled his eyes at Tony as he shut the door to a new litany of unprintable words and handed him a pack of tissues. "Quite subtle, Mr. DiNozzo."

* * *

REBEKAH LAWRENCE'S HOME

Josiah stepped up to front door, the two NCIS agents behind him. He rang the doorbell and the three waited quietly as there was some shuffling inside before the door opened.

Lawrence stood there, a look of utter surprise on her face, her suit jacket partly on, her blouse still partly untucked from her pants and still shoe-less.

"I thought you said girls aren't slobs," McGee whispered to Kate, who shot him a dark look.

* * *

ATF HEADQUARTERS

Abby called up the computer animation program. "This was Garcia's room, recreated from the pictures you guys took." She began to run the animation. "The killer gets into the room, takes Garcia's weapon and shoots him."

"He most likely put Garcia's hand near his temple to get that splatter we saw, or even put the gun in Garcia's hand and then shot him holding Garcia's hand," Larabee thought aloud.

"That would explain the odd prints and the blood trails," Gibbs agreed.

"Then," Abby continued, "he promptly picks up Garcia and props him up in the chair."

"What about Garcia's pillow? There was no blood on the pillow, the sheets, the mattress."

"It wouldn't take much - slipping a plastic garbage bag under the pillow. If you ask me, he swiped a clean pillow from another room to replace it." Abby turned around. "It was a really good setup."

* * *

Orin paced in front of the three agents. "I need not remind you this is inappropriate behavior for federal agents, do I?" Getting no response, he sighed. "What happened?"

"I believe the proper response is he walked into a door," Ezra replied with a straight face. The director shot him a dark look.

"Crowell started it," Buck muttered. "He's out in the lot, hootin' and hollerin' when Tony's just bein' polite. Tries to hit him."

"Agent DiNozzo, did you do something to Crowell?" Travis asked wisely.

Tony tried to look insulted. "Did he tell you that?"

Travis rolled his eyes. In the back, Ducky was looking particularly amused.

"Agent DiNozzo can handle himself, sir," Ezra put in, "but it is really the principle of the matter. We are simply not paid enough to suffer such indignities." Travis hmphed as Ezra continued, "Assault on a federal officer - Agent DiNozzo - is quite serious."

"Assault on a federal officer?" Travis asked in disbelief.

"I swear upon the grave of my sainted mother," Ezra intoned with mock earnestness.

"Your mother's alive," Travis retorted. "I jailed her once, remember?" Tony and Ducky looked surprised.

"Figure of speech."

"Ah, but in the days of the ancient civilizations, swearing was hardly a figure of speech," Ducky announced as he got up from his seat. "Yes, it was actually quite a serious matter. If the oath taken was not completed to the letter, the person to whom it was sworn could claim whatever it was the oath-taker swore upon. That is why the good Lord says not to take an oath on either one's head or on the earth or by the heavens - since one cannot turn one's hair white or give the earth and the heavens."

The three agents barely suppressed smiles. Travis glared at them but said nothing to Ducky.

"Indeed, Tony, swearing as you do upon the life of your mother would have cost her her life if you had ever been wrong," Ducky continued as Ezra looked at DiNozzo in surprise. "But I think it doesn't matter to your late mother, now. Mr. Standish, swearing upon the grave of your mother would allow the person to whom you swore to have your mother's grave...perhaps a boon in these days of high-priced plots."

"He can have Mother BEFORE she goes to the grave," the undercover agent muttered. Buck chuckled.

"Get out, all of you," Travis finally barked as he sat down at his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose.

As the three agents headed out, Ducky looked at his old friend with an amused smile. "Come now, Orin, don't you think you were a little harsh?"

Orin groaned. "I feel a headache bigger than Crowell's coming on. You wouldn't have anything for it, would you?"

Ducky chuckled. "To cure insubordinate agents, no."

* * *

Chris grabbed the reporter by the collar, shoving him against the wall. "I'll give you to three! One - "

Behind the mirror, Nathan winced and looked over at Tony and Kate. Chris was his friend, but some days he wished that he could maintain a little more restraint...like Gibbs.

"I can't reveal my sources," Crowell managed to get out, still defiant.

"Two," Chris hissed, his eyes spitting fire.

"Obstructing a federal investigation," Gibbs offered shortly.

Crowell glared, then began speaking as well as he could for Larabee's hands at his throat. "I got an anonymous phone call."

"You based your article on an ANONYMOUS phone call?"

"NO," Crowell retorted as he was let go. "I got the phone call, made a tape copy, and reported it to the FBI. They told me more."

"And you didn't think to come to us," Chris replied. "Since we're the ones with the case."

"The caller said the FBI had hired Garcia," Crowell replied.

There was a pause as the two team leaders stared. "What? How'd they know that?" The vein in Chris' forehead started to throb.

"You have the tape? Hand it over." Gibbs held out a hand.

"I can...go back to my office and get it," Crowell replied.

"I got a better idea," Gibbs replied. "You tell us where the tape is. We'll get it."

* * *

"That phone call that Crowell got?" Abby was nearly shouting, her headphones on. "Voice was altered. Not the - " She noticed Gibbs signing to her. "Oh, sorry." She pulled off her headphones and lowered her voice. "I wouldn't say that it was those cheapo deep voice things. Certainly higher tech. I think the normal voice was made lower, into...like a man's voice." She ran the program to restore the call to its original sound. "Recognize it?"

Vin shifted uncomfortably, feeling the eyes of the two team leaders on him. "That's Beckie," he said quietly.

"Yeah, but that's not solid anything unless we can actually do a mix master match," JD pointed out. "We need a recording of her voice. Do you have any? Maybe the church youth center?"

"She's got an interrogation coming up," Gibbs replied as he looked over at Chris.

* * *

Buck winced when he saw what Gibbs was doing in the interrogation room. Personally, he had no feelings towards Lawrence - their personalities were polar opposites, plus she was a schoolteacher - the bane of his existence in his youth. But he couldn't help but feel sorry for the woman; she was most likely JD's age, maybe just slightly older. She was no match for the experienced interrogator, and he was surprised she had lasted as long as she had.

"Where were you around 6 am on Tuesday morning?"

"In my house, getting ready for the school day, why?"

"And last night at 8:45?" At her hesitation, Gibbs narrowed his eyes at her ever so slightly. "You were supposed to be a teachers' conference. They took roll after the intermission...you and half of the teachers had left."

She sighed. "It was one of those fluff meetings. The half that stayed had to because they pushed some awards ceremony to the end, and some of them were getting awards."

"Where'd you go after you left?" Tony asked.

"I went home."

"Not immediately," Gibbs replied. "Your neighbor came by at 9:15 and said you weren't home."

She paused. "I went out to the Hickman diner for coffee."

"Hickman?" Buck muttered as he quickly wrote a text message on the PDA to Gibbs and Tony. "That's almost 45 minutes from her house and the school." He paused. "And only fifteen from Garcia's motel." He and Kate watched as Gibbs and Tony briefly looked at their message and turn back to the woman.

"Can anyone vouch for that?" Gibbs said sharply. "Receipt? Credit card slip? Witness?"

"I don't know!" she was getting agitated. "There were a lot of people there. And it was a cup of coffee. I paid in cash."

Gibbs leaned in, his eyes narrowing. She frowned and swallowed. "If we find out you've been withholding information..."

"I'm not hiding anything! And I don't understand what this is about."

"You didn't tell us you knew how to shoot," Tony said sharply.

She looked slightly taken aback, then recovered. "It was something I did in high school. I grew out of that phase," she insisted. "I was missing Denver, trying to understand what Mike was doing in the Marines."

"Have you touched a gun since?" Gibbs asked curtly.

She paused, almost defeatedly, and looked down. "Vin insisted I at least be familiar with small arms," she whispered into the tabletop. "He took me to the range a few times."

Kate looked at Buck and Chris questioningly. Buck sighed and explained quietly, "We make lots of enemies. Sometimes people get caught in the crossfire. It's not the best solution, teachin' 'em how to shoot, but. Vin might have overreacted."

"Yeah?" Tony slapped down a piece of paper. "Shooting range Agent Tanner took you to. He must be a good teacher. Six rounds: only one not dead center and two in the same hole." She looked guiltily at the sheet as Gibbs and Tony stared at her. "Tell us how it works."

"I don't keep a gun, though!" Lawrence protested. "I don't have one in my house, and no one tells me to keep one. He just wanted to make sure I could use one if necessary."

"Just USE one?" Gibbs retorted. "That score...that's more than just point and shoot."

Kate cringed inside when she heard her boss's voice through the intercom. Gibbs had laid out the case for her involvement rather harshly, and she had a sinking feeling she knew exactly how Gibbs was going to bait Beckie into providing some kind of evidence she had done it. As far as the ATF and NCIS knew, Lawrence didn't know that her old friend was dead.

"So you take his own gun and you put a bullet into his head," Gibbs hissed.

Her repeated 'no, I didn't!' was suddenly cut short at Gibbs' statement, and her blanched face was visible even from the other side of the one-way mirror. For a moment she sat in stunned silence, her mouth partly open.

Chris swore, throwing his water bottle against the wall. Buck saw the NCIS agent jump visibly, so he discreetly stepped between Kate and Chris. "Chris, what?"

Chris glanced back at the window, and the two other agents' eyes followed him. On the other side, Lawrence's eyes were wide - a mix of fear and shock. She sat stunned for a moment, then dry-gagged, looking as if she were about to hyperventilate or to cry. "She didn't kill Garcia." Without another word, he left, the door slamming behind him.

* * *

"What about our voice sample?" Chris asked curtly as he came into the lab. "We just sent down the voice samples from her interrogation."

The program ran through, 'no match' popping up each time. "It looks like it's not a match," Nathan said disappointedly.

"Oh, but it is." Abby turned around. "You see, when you call, Ma Bell cuts off everything above a certain hertz and below another. Makes for faster transmission. So that's why, when you think you sound different on a - "

"NOW, Miss Sciuto."

Abby looked a little shocked at the blond's demand, then turned around to the computer. After typing a few keys, she played back the samples, matching them perfectly. "It's dead on."

Chris turned to Vin, whose lips were pressed into a thin line as he stared at the computer. "Does she use those expressions?" the ATF leader asked the sniper.

Vin continued to look at the screen, where each sound sample blinked a loud 'voice match' back at him. "Yeah."

"So we've got a really good actress upstairs who sold out her mentor or a totally oblivious woman who makes phone calls she has no idea about," Nathan muttered. "Wonderful."

* * *

"Voice recognition isn't an exact science," Kate argued. "And with what Abby said about the voice being lowered to a man's voice, we can't be sure that it was her." She ignored the look from Gibbs. She knew well he thought that she was too blindsided by Lawrence to be objective.

"And who the h-ll else would you guess, then?" Larabee snapped. The dark look he got from Gibbs was returned with his own glare.

"Perhaps she did not shoot Garcia but she did make the phone call," Standish suggested. "In the call to Crowell, the caller only said Gunnery Sergeant Garcia was a Marine sniper currently working undercover for the FBI. It did not say he was dead. That information Crowell could have uncovered simply from a call to the manager of that hideous hellhole he calls a motel."

"It's too coincidental that she wouldn't be involved, somehow," Nathan replied. "The question is how - good or bad."

"His cover was blown," McGee retorted. "How good can that be?"

"Beckie wouldn't ever stab Michael Garcia in the back," Vin said quietly but firmly. The comment was met with silence; he looked through slightly narrowed eyes at the other agents. "She wouldn't do that."

"We can't explain the phone call or the other coincidences, Vin," Chris replied in a warning tone, speaking before Gibbs, who obviously felt the same way he did about Lawrence, could respond to Vin the way he himself had snapped at Kate. "How well do any of us know her? How well do you actually know her?"

Vin's sharp blue eyes looked up sharply, meeting his boss's. After a moment, he simply got up and left.

* * *

Kate entered the small break room and stopped briefly when she saw the ATF sniper there. Quietly steeling her courage, she went through the motions of pouring herself a cup of coffee just as they heard the door slam. Kate winced.

Vin figured it would come sooner or later - Gibbs and Chris were going to have it out. Over them. Vin held out the small tray of sugar and cream. "Cream and sugar?"

She looked up at him, then smiled gratefully. "Thanks." She took some of the sweetner. "Do you have milk?"

"Right in the fridge," Vin replied.

They were quite for awile, and finally Kate murmured, "I made a mistake once. I trusted somebody I thought was a victim, and...she turned out to be a lot less of one than I thought."

Vin looked up at the NCIS agent, who tapped her mug and then finally took a sip. Vin paused at the revelation and then drawled quietly, "Yeah, me too." He could feel Kate's eyes on him. "We were supposed ta be protectin' these families, and she...she was lonely, and...I...done got sucked in. Biggest mistake." He looked up at her, and Kate's smile was warm.

"To the screwups." Kate's eyes danced as she held up her mug; his eyes twinkled as he clinked his mug to hers. "It's, uh. It's good we had this out. We're good, right?"

Vin grinned for the first time since all this had happened. "Yep."

"Think those two will be OK?" Kate tilted her head toward Larabee's office.

There was a pause, and then the two just laughed.

* * *

"What the h-ll is goin' on," Chris demanded when his office door shut behind them.

"I don't know. Maybe you should tell me," Gibbs replied, his voice tight and dangerous.

"If anything happens to my agents because yours screwed up, I will personally - "

"MY...agents?" Gibbs drew out, raising an eyebrow. "What about your sniper?"

"Yours is the profiler," Chris shot back, his eyes hardening.

Gibbs clamped his mouth shut and paced slightly, running a hand through his hair. There was a long moment of silence. "Tanner wouldn't be the first man to fall for a pretty face and he won't be the last," he finally offered as a gesture of peace. "It's happened to all of us."

Chris acknowledged the comment with a tilt of his head. "Yeah, but Vin's got good instincts. He's never fallen for a..." he stopped, the familiar burn back in his chest. Even Ella's death in the firefight when they had finally found her still didn't ease the guilt. He hadn't just fallen for any regular killer; of all people, it had to be his family's murderer. He swallowed and finished, "Vin's never made the mistake of falling for a criminal, not even a suspect," he finished tightly.

The flicker across Larabee's face would have gone unnoticed by most, but Gibbs wasn't most people. He looked at Larabee carefully for a moment and then completed Larabee's thought: "This is going to eat at him if it's for real. Not so much losing her but the fact that he got duped."

Chris looked at the NCIS agent, seeing well-worn experience in his eyes. He wasn't the only one who'd made that mistake before, it appeared. "Yeah."

* * *

CITY PRISON

Nathan and Josiah had taken the car around the back of the federal jail, Lawrence in the backseat. The medic and the profiler were quiet; they weren't sure what to do with the woman. They had read her her rights again; she again waived her right to a lawyer. She looked almost comatose.

Either it was for real or she was playing an elaborate game - if the latter, she succeeded, because the teams had decided to ask the judge for some kind of protected house arrest instead of actually jailing her. They just hoped it wouldn't jump up to bite them later.

All three were checked with hand scanners upon entering. Down the hall, the NCIS, the ATF, and the FBI teams were at the main entrance's metal detector.

Nathan scowled. He really didn't want to deal with the FBI now. Who had told them Lawrence was here, anyhow?

Chris glared a lagging McGee through the detector first, the two team leaders bringing up at the rear. There were a few puzzled looks between the agents, and an expression on Vin's face that said they were about to witness a terrific joke. Nathan sighed. They didn't need this, not right now.

Gibbs was the last NCIS or ATF agent to go through the detector. The two teams were about four feet away when the alarm went off. The entire lobby turned to see Verucchi standing in the detector, looking shocked - as much as a FBI agent would. Surprise turned into slow realization.

Tony waved cheerily at Verucchi.

As the FBI agent emptied his pockets, he pulled out a brown knife, which the guard popped open to reveal a large blade. A pat-down of Bickerstaff revealed the same. "Your directors will hear about this!" Bickerstaff shouted after them as Verucchi glared darkly. "What do you mean, 'where's my FBI ID'?" he barked at the guard, who just glared back and held out a hand expectantly.

"Let's go, ladies," Chris ordered as he and Gibbs shared a grin.

* * *

MARY TRAVIS'S HOME  
THAT EVENING

"...and guess what, Chris? Agent Gibbs' anc'stors were horse traders. I told him a long time ago an old Larabee used to breed horses."

"There's an old Larabee right here," Vin drawled from his seat, earning him snickers and an appropriate glare.

The teams had arrived at the Travises' with takeout, no one wanting much to eat, much less to cook, after that day's events. The perceptive youngster seemed to sense it, and Billy's solution was to turn on his childlike enthusiasm even higher, trying to cheer up the adults with his talk. Against all expectations, he was succeeding - the Lawrence-Garcia problem seemed far away as the weary adults took just the night off, letting themselves get caught up in the small things that amused the boy.

"Trading?" Larabee turned to Gibbs with a look of amused interest.

"Breeding?" Gibbs replied, a grin on his face.

"Good Lord have mercy, they're bonding," Ezra groaned from his seat.

"Twenty bucks one of Larabee's breeders hung one of Gibbs' traders," Buck commented loud enough to Tony, who grinned and shook his head, his mouth still full of food. "Even DiNozzo knows that'd be a a given."

"...and Agent Gibbs is building a wooden boat in his basement, and when he's done, I get to ride in it," Billy continued, his happy smile now even more genuine. He suddenly paused, his food half-way to his mouth, as a new thought occurred to him. "How're you gonna get it out?" he asked curiously.

"Yes, Gibbs, how you are going to get it out?" Kate repeated with an even more amused look. When the silver-haired agent looked up, an eyebrow raised, she shrugged and returned to her food.

"And I showed him the Noah's ark Chris made me," Billy rattled on, looking up at his hero with a childlike pride. "The big boat and all the little animals Chris carved!"

"Oh, you mean Chris' ark onto which the good Lord told Noah to bring twenty pairs of each animal?" Josiah commented as he winked at the little boy, who grinned back amidst the laughter.

"...and do you know how much coffee Agent Gibbs drinks? Agent 'Nozzo secretly registered him in Coffee-holics Anonymous, which is to help people who are addicted to coffee."

Amidst the snickers, Tony's eyes widened, his fork freezing on the way to his mouth.

* * *

ATF HEADQUARTERS

"Pizza's here," McGee announced as he came into the ATF lab where Abby had set herself up. He looked properly chastised when she shushed him. "What's going on?"

"JD's still going over the Lawrence voice samples," Abby whispered. "I'm still working on the spyware. I keep hitting a wall...right there," she pointed to the computer code. "Thanks, McGee," she grinned as she took a quick sip of the fresh, large soda he set on her table.

McGee went over, lightly tapping JD on the shoulder. He jumped and looked up with an annoyed expression, then it softened. He pulled his headphones off and stopped the program. "Thanks, McGee." He rolled his chair over to Abby desk. "I love Giordani's pizza."

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes before JD suddenly asked, "Abby, when you did the sound sample for 'FBI,' did the samples match time-wise?" At the twin puzzled expressions he got, he amended, "I mean, did the phone call 'FBI' sound a little strange?"

"It sounded like she was half-drunk when she said it," Abby conceded, then clarified, "It took her a long time to get it out. She said 'FBI' a lot faster during the interrogation. I had to elongate the interrogation sample just a little to get it to match. Why?"

JD shook his head. "All the other samples sound OK, but that one... Let's do a full acoustical analysis. Can you switch the background sound and the main sound for me? I want to listen to what's going on in the back."

Abby shrugged in agreement and turned to her computer. She brought the program up and played a little with the sound. "OK, reversing the stereo mix." She ran the sample, frowned, and ran it again before looking at the two agents.

JD nodded. "It sounds like she was in three different places at each letter, right? And the 'B' is clipped. It sounds cobbled together."

"The other voice samples matched," McGee pointed out.

The other two paused a moment, and then Abby suddenly said, "We cut up the phone call into single-word samples. We tested each word on the tape against her interrogation voice word sample. Of course the single-word phone samples would sound fine!"

"We should listen to the call as a whole, with the backgrounds reversed - see if we get different sounds in the backgrounds from word to word," McGee nodded.

The lab specialist called up the whole sample, reversed the mix, and played the file back. When it was over, Abby turned around to them with a Cheshire cat grin.

_TBC_


	7. Chapter 7

**The Mile High City Affair**

by Sammie

Disclaimer in part 1.

* * *

ATF HEADQUARTERS  
NEXT MORNING

"You're telling me that Lawrence made that phone call," Gibbs said sharply, his impatience beginning to show.

"She didn't, but she did," Abby replied excitedly, a huge grin on her face.

"Abby!"

Abby looked slightly annoyed, but she finally explained, "That's Lawrence's voice on the line. She didn't make that phone call. She most likely has no idea what's going on."

"Is it your idea to DEPRESS ME!" Gibbs growled.

"That phone call was cobbled together. Put together, phrase by phrase," JD added, grinning widely. "The only continuous voice segment is when she says 'Michael Garcia is a Marine'."

"How many different segments are there?" Buck asked.

"Seventeen. 'FBI' counts for three. That was the sample that JD was listening to when he figured this out," Abby replied, nodding at JD.

"Somebody bugged her phone?" Tony asked.

"Or her house, her car, her classroom," Abby suggested. "Plus, it doesn't sound pure."

"See," McGee began, "when sound is digitized, it - "

"McGee," Gibbs said warningly.

"The call was routed through some kind of machine that made it...like a mp3 type file," JD explained. "The sound wasn't the sharp stereo you hear, it feels like...it was compressed. And smoothed out. That helped hide the different background noise behind her. Whoever did the cobbling did a bang up job. We totally missed it the first time. That's not Lawrence on the line."

"That's not her calling directly, but she still could have set up the call from her computer," McGee amended.

"Oh, and her alibi?" Abby grinned. "The phone call left on Crowell's voice mail had a return number which is Lawrence's HOME phone number at 2043 local. She said she was out until almost 2130, and the neighbor said she wasn't home."

"She could just not have answered her door."

"Well, yeah," Abby replied. "A little difficult when you're 45 minutes away." She called up another screen. "When you turn on your cell phone, it makes access with the nearest tower for service, whether or not you make a phone call. After McGee and JD mentioned that, we tracked her cell phone records." She pointed up at the screen. "She turned on her cell phone at 9 pm, and when it accessed the network, it picked up the tower about a mile from the diner. There's no way she could have driven from that diner to her home in fifteen minutes."

"Gibbs could."

"Maybe somebody took her cell phone," McGee replied.

"Probie, she supposedly made a really incriminating phone call last night and she admits she most likely doesn't have somebody to confirm her alibi for the time the call was made," Tony retorted. "If she had really done it, making the call and killing Garcia, don't you think she'd set up the phone call for some time when she DID have an alibi?"

"Just get this straight for me," Gibbs said shortly. "That phone call - it's still her voice, isn't it?"

"Oh yeah, that's Lawrence's voice." Abby's eyes danced at their accomplishment. "But it's not Lawrence speaking."

* * *

LAWRENCE'S HOME

"Have you found anything?" Nathan asked, coming out of Lawrence's study with a frustrated look on his face.

"Nope," Vin replied, looking just as frustrated.

"I hit the jackpot," came Tony's muffled voice from the bedroom. When they went in, he was grinning widely, all the bureau drawers yanked out and the NCIS agent straightening up from his bent posture.

"You were supposed to look for bugs, not look at her clothes," Nathan pointed out.

"Eh, certainly not my kind of girl. But I find something better." Tony, grinning, held up a small bug. "It must have dropped down into her bureau from the top. It was buried in the back. I wouldn't have seen it except I heard something dropping inside when I moved the bureau."

"One?" Vin asked in a slightly disappointed tone. "We've only got one."

* * *

ATF HEADQUARTERS

"They only found one," Gibbs reported back to the bullpen, whose hopeful looks fell. "Stuffed into the back of her dresser. That's not enough to make that phone call."

There was a pause, and then Josiah leaned forward. "What if...there were a lot of listening devices everywhere - and they were removed? What if whoever set the bugs knew we were on to them?"

"How? We just found this last night," JD contradicted him.

"Or they figured something was up when Lawrence was arrested," Josiah replied.

"One of us?" Buck asked in complete disbelief.

* * *

FBI HEADQUARTERS  
WASHINGTON, DC

"Sir, there's a conference call for you," the control room officer looked down at the balding agent.

Tobias Fornell frowned. "Who?"

"All he'll say is that he's the closest thing to a friend you've got," the officer replied, trying to suppress a smile. When Fornell narrowed his eyes slightly, the officer fidgeted. "He's coming on in five minutes."

Fornell nodded and got up from his desk, heading into the dark control room. He looked at the senior control officer, who replied, "NCIS Special Agent Gibbs, sir," and gave him a sympathetic look. At the name, Fornell rolled his eyes, but without the requisite punch behind it. "Go ahead, put him on. Gibbs. You're going to have to find somebody else to chat over tea."

Gibbs just smirked on screen. "I figure you owe me one."

"How do you figure that?"

"I helped you on the Napolitano case!" Gibbs protested.

"That was you making up your setting my career back twenty years when you shot Ari in the shoulder!" Fornell heard a sharp sound on the other end, and he saw Gibbs narrow his eyes at somebody off camera.

"You wouldn't have had a career without me," Gibbs pointed out, and then Fornell conceded. "I need a favor. How high's your clearance? High enough to gain access to the records of a Colorado governor?"

"You talking the Hopewell case?"

Gibbs sat up in his chair. "You know it?"

"Well, it's high-profile because of who he is, but the FBI doesn't see it as a big enough problem to give it a really high clearance," Fornell replied.

"Tell 'not a big enough problem' to the ATF."

The FBI agent paused a moment, then he chuckled as he understood the reason he was now on conference call instead of trying to scare Gibbs out of his office. "You're in Denver."

"Yep."

"Hey," Fornell grinned, basking safely in the long distance between Denver and Washington. "Chris GLarabee over there? Talk about hell on earth - Gibbs and Larabee in the same city. Couldn't you two just glare Hopewell to death?"

The control room officers snickered, and the same laughter could be heard coming from those off camera.

The infamous Chris Larabee appeared on the camera, sitting down next to Gibbs with a slight scowl on his face, which just made the FBI agent grin more widely. Gibbs, barely suppressing a smile, introduced, "Agent Larabee, Agent T.C. Fornell, FBI. Fornell, Larabee."

Fornell nodded in acknowledgment. "So, what is it?"

"We need access to the personnel files of some of the Denver agents," Gibbs replied. "Without their knowing."

"No can do, Gi - "

"A widow with a young son is going to lose her life if we don't," Gibbs shot back, the amusement in his voice gone. "We're not just talking careers, here, Tobias."

Fornell paused a moment. "Which names? I can't guarantee anything."

"They're coming over on the machine," Gibbs replied just as the humming stopped and the control room officer held up a freshly printed sheet.

Taking the sheet, Fornell looked it over, then raised an eyebrow at one name. "Tim Bickerstaff, huh. He came out of DC. I wrote him up once for unprofessional behavior. Bit of a firebrand and loner, but not in a good way."

"Him, especially," Gibbs nodded. "Team boss is Tom Verucchi."

"I'll see what I can do," Fornell replied, signaling to the control officer that the call was about to end. "In the mean time, don't scare Denver too much."

* * *

ATF HEADQUARTERS  
DENVER, CO

"We've already interviewed everyone who knew Garcia," Kate pointed out.

"We got set up real good," Buck muttered.

"You mean Beckie got set up real good," JD snorted. "And we got dragged along."

"What are we going to do about Rebekah?" Josiah asked. "We arrested her."

"We had reason to," Gibbs replied shortly. "And she's under house arrest, not in jail."

"Yeah, maybe, but we still made a mistake," JD insisted.

There was a silence at the table, and then Chris slowly dropped his pencil onto his notepad. All eyes flickered to him. "We haven't interviewed everyone tied to Rebekah Lawrence."

Buck shrugged. "Chris, she didn't do it. You and Kate and I saw that interview, and Gibbs and Tony did it. She obviously had no idea or she's up for an Oscar for that performance."

"She's the perfect fall guy," JD replied. "I mean, she's met Hopewell personally a few times, she got a rich house on awful pay, she was Garcia's closest friend left in Denver, and she knows how to handle a rifle and a small handgun. It's like they picked Garcia and Lawrence together to screw over."

"And thus, I'm afraid we still have to maintain a form of house arrest for Miss Lawrence," Ezra suddenly spoke. He leaned forward. "Gentlemen - and lady," he added, nodding graciously at Kate with an amused smile on his face, "think." He turned serious. "Whoever did this has planned this well. He - or she - made it seem as though Gunnery Sergeant Garcia had turned rogue. Garcia's murder was made to look as if he had committed suicide."

"Then they set up Rebekah Lawrence to take the fall in case it was figured out Garcia was murdered," Kate murmured, catching on.

Ezra nodded. "As Mr. Dunne has said, the perfect fall...woman," he amended.

"So we're assuming now she has nothing to do with it," Chris replied darkly.

"I am merely explaining a theory, Mr. Larabee."

"Let's take the worse case scenario," Gibbs interrupted. "She's been elaborately set up. Which means we're back to no suspects unless Fornell finds us something."

After a long silence, "Well," Ezra cut in, "there is one unsavory way of drawing out Hopewell's hit men, but the question is whether or not it is worth it to try." He looked at them carefully, his head titled slightly in the direction of Mary's workspace in the conference room.

The phone rang on Josiah's desk, and he picked it up. "Sanchez. ... Yeah." He hung up. "That was Abby and the boys. They think they have something else."

* * *

"First," Abby started, "the bug we got back. More expensive than what we use, but still pretty standard, government issue. You could get it anywhere. There's some sound on it, but then at some point it got shoved somewhere into Lawrence's dresser, so the sound just entirely cuts off."

"And second?" Gibbs prodded.

"We got a hit on Garcia's email address." She typed in a command to bring up the screen. "We just found this. Apparently Garcia had a free web email account no one knew about. He didn't set it up on his computer, most likely because he guessed about the trojan horse application. He could have used a public library computer or something; that's why we didn't know about it."

"How did you find it?" Chris asked.

"Fluke. The box got hit by spam really hard, and it overflowed on webspace," McGee cut in. "So they sent an email to his primary account, which we do have. We then went to the site and tried entering the user ID in, and because - "

"McGee," Gibbs barked.

" - we found that he had set up an e-reminder to himself," McGee continued.

Gibbs blinked.

McGee explained, "You have a little online calendar, and you can time it to send out an email on a certain date. Most people use it to remind themselves to buy a present for somebody's birthday, watch a TV show, that kind of thing."

"You can do that online?" Gibbs asked.

"Sure. I can show you," McGee offered. Gibbs raised an eyebrow, which made Tony and Abby secretively exchange amused looks. "Or not. Anyhow, he set up a reminder to himself for two days ago. This reminder was primed to send to his own email account...and to Lawrence's."

"Two days ago. We talked to her just yesterday, and she didn't say anything," Nathan cut in.

"When his box overflowed, they froze the account," JD replied, his grin widening. "Nothing going in or out until he deletes something." He nodded to Abby, who brought the email up on the screen. "He's pretty sure he'll be offed. Look at the opening. He was planning to cancel the reminder if he was still alive by the date of the reminder."

"He tells her a lot for being undercover," Buck muttered. "He's tellin' her he was undercover and that he thinks somebody in the operation is selling him and the job out. Even talks about Hopewell. Mentions his female accomplice, too - says her name is Jolene Garrett."

"Yeah, it's an alias," JD cut in. "We looked everywhere for her. She doesn't exist."

"The letter we found in the room said he would tell her more later," Nathan murmured, voicing what all the others were thinking. "The reminder was what he was going to tell her."

"He was betrayed by the very person in whom he had placed all his trust, his FBI contact," the ATF undercover agent finally spoke, his words dripping with severe disgust. "He cannot be sure of anyone's loyalty."

Tony watched as the entire ATF team fell silent and turned to their undercover agent. "So why Lawrence, Ezra?" Chris asked, unusually kindly. "He trusts her? He expects her to clear his name?"

Standish shrugged. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. It matters little." He turned to Chris, an inscrutable expression on his face as he said quietly, "He does not want her to think he has gone to the other side, even if others do." He paused a moment, then finished, "Rebekah is the one person whose opinion still matters to him. It would kill him if those he trusted did not believe him."

* * *

Mary sat in front of them, her face pale but otherwise showing no other emotion. "So we have no suspect right now?" she asked in clarification. "What exactly is going on?"

"Here's where everything is right now," Buck began. "Garcia went UA from his base in Hawaii. We know he was paid to come to Denver by Hopewell - as a sniper - to kill you and most likely a few others. He was undercover for the FBI at the time; they were hoping to bring Hopewell down."

"OK, and now skipping the comments about the FBI not coordinating with the ATF," Mary prodded. "Garcia was murdered a couple days ago in his hotel room."

Buck nodded. "But it was made to look like a suicide, most likely to cover the killer's tracks. From a note that Garcia had written, it seems he had discovered that somebody was going to blow his cover, sell out him and the operation. He figured he wasn't going to make it out alive, and tried to write a last letter to Rebekah Lawrence."

"OK. And Lawrence?"

"Her house was most likely bugged, and from the voice recordings somebody made it seem like she was working for Hopewell, with Garcia, and made that phone call to Brian Crowell."

At her colleague's name, Mary narrowed her eyes slightly. "And now?"

"We cleared Garcia - like it matters, because he's dead - and Lawrence. Neither of them are involved - at least, not in a criminal manner. So" Buck heaved a huge sigh "the long in the short of it is that we have no suspects. Case stalled."

Mary sat back with a frown. "So now what? Who do we go after?"

Buck fell silent, his eyes flickering briefly to his old friend before saying quietly, "We can drop it now."

Mary sat up, her eyes flashing. "Do we have to?"

"I am not going to let you go out there," Chris replied. "That's a professional killer."

"Chris, I don't want to go through this one more time," Mary exclaimed, her tone taking on a bit of pleading. "Every single time, it's more hiding, more bodyguards, looking over my shoulder. Is there a way we can end this now?"

Gibbs leaned forward. "If you're willing to do it, we'll try to force Hopewell's hand against you. He tried to get you at a public event last time. If you have another one coming up, that would be best; we'll make him come after you and trap him."

Mary paused as she flipped open the next page in her planner. "In three days I have to attend the opening of some art exhibit in downtown Denver. In the art museum."

"Three days?" Gibbs paused. "Don't you have anything earlier? Something...outside?"

Mary shook her head. "I don't have another public assignment until a month from now. I'm supposed to cover a rally then." She paused a moment. "I have to attend a banquet for the art museum unveiling the night before the art opening. That's the only other event in the next few days."

Abby, JD, and McGee were already crowded at their makeshift computer center. Suddenly JD announced, "We got a blueprint here. We can look at this while I get a real blueprint for the museum." He nodded to Abby, who beamed it up to the plasma screen in the room.

Vin made his way around to the front, Buck on the other side of the table, examining the print. The ATF sniper looked up at Kate and drawled, "So, Secr't Service, what do ya think?"

Kate looked up at the clear blue eys twinkling at her and smiled. "You're the sniper."

"I'd say here, here, and here," Vin said, pointing at two places and acknowledging the third one Buck pointed out. "If Garcia's accomplice is going to step in as his new sniper, those would be the places in the museum I'd be worried about."

"What's this?" Kate asked, pointing at a particularly confusing part of the blueprint.

"That part of the museum has a small balcony. The entire balcony serves as the stand for one of the largest displays of ancient masonry from Rome," Ezra replied.

"I'd say that's a prime place to hide, then," Kate murmured. "No one would suspect you're up there."

"It looks straight inta the lobby," Vin replied darkly. "That's where yer cer'mony's gonna be, right, Mary?" He got a nod.

"What if the killer doesn't go long?" Buck suddenly spoke. "Stutz dropped his rifle to go short-range."

"We have a bigger problem than that," Gibbs finally spoke. "How are we going to force his hand?"

"He's not going to do anything unless he thinks we're really close to catching him," Buck replied, shaking his head. "I mean, he didn't shoot Stutz until we surrounded him."

"That's 'cause shootin' Stutz was shootin' millions of his own money," Vin muttered disgustedly.

"So how are we going to make Hopewell think we've got enough to arrest him?" McGee asked, and the room fell silent.

"Put an advert in Mary's paper," Josiah commented, half-kidding.

Gibbs sat thinking a minute, then looked up slowly at his ATF counterpart to see the same conspiratorial grin on his face.

* * *

_CLARION_ NEWSPAPER OFFICE

"ATF. Where's Crowell?" Larabee didn't mince words as they entered the _Clarion_ office building.

"He's in there, but he's in a meeting," the secretary began. When Gibbs and Larabee brushed past him and went into the office, he protested, "You can't go in there! I don't think you heard me!"

"Federal agents, free ticket to the Love Shack," Tony replied, flashing his badge as they headed in the open door, barely missing a skittery and frightened typist scurrying out of Crowell's office.

"You dirtbag," Gibbs growled. "You screwed up our entire operation by printing that headline, blowing Garcia's cover. You're going to fix it for us now."

"You screwed up the operation when you let the Marine get killed!" Crowell snapped.

"We're giving you information that no one else has," Buck pointed out impatiently. "You're the first reporter to get it, and you're going to get first crack to print it! What else do you want?"

Larabee tossed a folded copy of the newspaper onto the desk and leaned over so he was eye to eye with the reporter. "Front page, Crowell. Tomorrow."

"Or what?" Crowell sneered, and only got a slow, feral grin from the blond in reply as the latter left. The reporter started muttering obscenities at the agents under his breath when, "OW!" he shouted, holding the back of his head where he'd just been smacked. "What the h-ll was that for!" he exclaimed, glaring at Gibbs.

"Stupidity," Gibbs retorted. "You don't badmouth and certainly don't hit my people." He started to head out. The other agents parted to let him go, Buck, JD, Tony, and McGee muttering as they dug into their pockets for money. Gibbs stopped to look at the exchange of bills and raised an eyebrow.

"Ez and Kate bet that you'd get to Crowell before Chris did," Buck muttered as he slapped the cash into their hands.

"That's kind of touching, boss, avenging the wrongs done me by - OW!" Tony winced at the smack. "What was that for?"

"Stupidity," Gibbs retorted. "You bet AGAINST me?"

"And a poor decision it was," Standish replied, chuckling as he folded his bills into the pocket in his jacket. "For your wallet and your employment."

"Yeah," JD exclaimed, loud in his disappointed annoyance. "Way Chris was spitting fire on the way over here, and he doesn't do nothing! He's getting mellow in his old age! Even Gibbs beat him to the punch!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gibbs turned to JD, his eyes slightly narrowed in question as Chris' voice roared from outside, "I'm getting WHAT, JD?"

The blond returned, some of the newspaper's files in hand, and glared at JD before holding out a hand to Standish. The undercover agent looked from the hand to his boss and back down. "Mr. Larabee, you cannot be serious." After a pause and Chris' renewed glare, Standish exclaimed, "I certainly cannot be expected to sit idly by and allow such opportunities rife with potential pass me by!"

"Ezra, I don't want to have to shoot you."

The undercover agent huffed and pulled out a pad of bills, which he put in his boss' hand. "What an utterly disgusting display of greed. ... But...your mercenary instincts do impress me, Mr. Larabee."

"All of it, Ezra."

Ezra made a face and pulled out the rest of the bills, which he handed to his boss. Chris pocketed them and he and Gibbs started heading out when Kate held out a hand. Groans were heard as the other men slapped bills into her palm. "Kate bet that Chris or Gibbs could glare you into obeying them today," Nathan explained unhappily to the open-mouthed undercover agent.

A smiling Kate counted the money as the others headed out, then held up half to Standish. "Nice doing business with you, Mr. Standish."

"No, no, not at all; the pleasure was entirely mine," Ezra chuckled and then waved an arm for her to go first. "After you."

* * *

NEXT MORNING, 6 AM  
ATF BUILDING

"How's Lawrence doing?"

"Surprisingly well, but I'm not sure she knew what she agreed to when she said we could use her in that article," Tony replied, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Team 3 is covering her protection detail, coordinating with Kelly," Vin offered.

"It came in!" JD shouted in announcement as he came running in, waving the _Clarion_. He read out loud, "'Undercover Sniper's Posthumous Revelation Makes Cold Case Hot Again', 'Friend takes email to baffled authorities, jumpstarts dragging case.'" He frowned.

"''Baffled authorities'!" Tony exclaimed.

"Our case was going quite well, thank you," Ezra muttered, the early morning hour and the headline souring his mood even more.

"Can we bring Crowell in for insulting federal agents?" JD asked.

"Two days," Buck grumbled. "Then we'll show up his weasly butt by giving the exclusive to somebody else."

_TBC_


	8. Chapter 8

**The Mile High City Affair**

by Sammie

Disclaimer in part 1.

* * *

"What have we got on the FBI agents?" Chris asked shortly, for the third time in an hour.

Tony was not happy. "Not much. Gibbs is on the phone with Fornell in your office." 'For the third time in an hour,' he added in his head.

"I know he is," Chris snapped, his temper growing short. "What do you mean, not much!"

"Brother," Josiah replied soothingly - the man had the patience of a saint and then some - "we've been over those files several times. As we said, the only agent with any disciplinary problems is Tim Bickerstaff."

"Then go over them again!" Chris slammed the chair he was using into a nearby desk and headed to his office.

"That man is worse than Captain Ahab," Ezra muttered.

"Standish, shut up and get back to work!"

The agents watched out of the corners of their eyes as the door slammed shut behind the frustrated senior ATF agent. They exchanged looks over their open files before JD complained, "Chris gets so obsessed about Hopewell. We're on the case right now with nothing more we can do and he's still glaring at us."

"He's persistent, JD," Buck corrected shortly. Even the usually fun-loving explosives agent was getting short-tempered.

"No, he's obsessed," JD insisted. "Fixated. Possessed. Consumed. Fan - "

"We get it, JD, ya got Ez's thesaurus," Vin cut in in annoyance. "Just let Chris alone."

"It makes him trigger-happy!"

"He's ALWAYS trigger-happy," Vin snapped. "Let him alone. It'll blow over."

* * *

"All right. Yeah." With that, Gibbs hung up.

"What did you get?" Chris replied shortly.

"Fornell gave us everything." Gibbs gathered up his papers. "He has nothing else."

"And you believe him?" Chris snorted. When Gibbs just turned to look at him, he got toe-to-toe with the other man, his green eyes furious. "I want Hopewell's hired shooter on that slab downstairs."

"And I don't?" Gibbs snapped.

Chris' voice lowered, hissing, "No mother and child are going to risk their lives for your screw-ups."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. He paused a moment, and then his voice came, quieter than ever: "As long as I'm alive, that boy will never live without his mother." He turned around and headed out, the door slamming behind him.

* * *

"He's got target fixation," Gibbs said the minute he was back in the bullpen. When the rest of the agents turned to him, the ATF agents eyeing him warily, he shook his head. "Larabee's going to get the rest of us killed," he muttered as he sorted through the files, apparently uncaring of the dark looks he was getting.

"Takes one to know one," Kate retorted quietly from her corner seat. Apparently it wasn't as under her breath as she thought.

Vin watched as the NCIS team boss straightened as he turned, stepping right in front of her until they were only inches apart. He narrowed his eyes down at her; Kate was slightly taken aback but didn't falter. "I'm just saying Chris isn't the only one with target fixation problems," she said firmly.

"'Chris'?"

"That's his name, Gibbs," Kate shot back in a low voice, her eyes flashing. "And you saying he's got target fixation is true, but don't you think that's pot calling the kettle black?"

Vin's eyes flickered to the other two NCIS agents. McGee was trying to look busy from his seat next to JD, working much faster now on his PDA...probably to avoid a tongue-lashing when Gibbs was finished with Kate. (The Kid was, unfortunately, watching the exchange with his mouth slightly open.) Just a few feet from his boss and his colleague - and moving away as discreetly as he could - was Tony; Vin saw the carefree agent grimace. He busied himself with the file papers, but both he and everyone else knew that they wouldn't get anything more out of them.

Out of self-protection, the other agents grouped at the other side of the room, pretending to work and mostly out of hearing range. Kate's voice had dropped, but Vin's sharp hearing could pick up the whispers even as the others pretended to head back to work. "You know who I'm talking about."

"Ari shot me and kidnapped three people - you twice."

"You shot him and we didn't know until Fornell said it just a few days ago!"

"He kidnapped you and let his men smack you, and you're defending him? You have something to tell me, Special - Agent - Todd?"

"That is not the point. You...you want to...gnaw at some old bone like a dog, you're entitled to your...old dog bone - "

"...DOG bone?"

" - and Chris is entitled to his. He lost a wife and a son, and now he stands to lose someone very close to him and see a little boy get orphaned. He might not be the most fun ballgame around, but you're not exactly a bed of roses, either. You can't - "

"We're done with this," Gibbs cut it off abruptly and headed downstairs.

Kate stood there, even more annoyed. "We were," she muttered.

* * *

"Maybe if you'd saved our work the first time around - " JD snapped.

"We wouldn't have needed to save if if your teammates hadn't kept interfe - " McGee interrupted.

"That's because my teammates actually had pertinent information, unlike - "

"Hey!" Kate suddenly shouted, pointing a file folder at the bickering agents, ending the sixth fight that day. "All right!" She looked at them, who were looking at her with a slightly chastised expression. Several feet away, Josiah smiled into his papers. "What is wrong with you? We've got holes in our plan - "

" - a huge, honking big hole," Vin muttered.

" - we're not going to go bouncing off the walls about it when we should be concentrating on what else we can do," Kate continued, ignoring him. "So let's break this bickering pattern." They stared at her, slightly dumbfounded. "I'll start. I'm worried for Mary. I'm worried for the Travises. I'm worried that if something goes wrong, Billy will be an orphan. Permanently. I'm worried about everyone here - that one of us won't come out of this assignment alive. There. I said it. ... I got it out, and I can move on with my life and the case."

Some of the other agents looked at Josiah pleadingly, begging the one agent who hadn't done any bickering to intervene. They were not going to participate in some bonding session.

"I know Mary's apparently got a huge...glaring - " Kate paused, thinking about the ATF boss " - literally - sign on her that says 'all men keep away', but it's perfectly okay to say you're worried about her. And about the director. And about each other."

"About each other?" JD exclaimed, now looking at the woman like she'd grown three heads. "You mean, like them?" he asked, waving a hand at his teammates.

"Yes. Two seconds, get it out. Larabee doesn't know, Gibbs doesn't know, we'll never discuss this again. This is a safe place for us to...voice our concerns."

"Huh," Buck muttered. "In my world, we call that a bar."

* * *

"Chris, that's ridiculous. You can't expect to take over the entire security detail at the dinner," Orin argued. "They'll suspect something is up."

"I agree with the Director," Standish finally spoke, ignoring the glare coming his way. "This is merely an appreciation dinner for the art gallery. I hardly think the assassin will attend, and even if he does, I suspect the speakers will bore him to death before he is able to do anything."

Orin blinked and then looked down at the Southerner. "I have to speak tonight, Standish."

"...and even if the assassin attends, I am sure the speaker will so enrapture him with his words that he will forget the task at hand."

"So what do we are we going to do?" Orin cut in, bringing the subject back on topic.

"I would be delighted to offer my services as an attendee, a dabbler in the fine arts," Standish replied.

"I'm sure you would," Orin muttered. "But I think Ezra has the idea. At most we will bring two, three agents as additions to security, and no one else so as not to raise suspicions. Anyone else will have to go as guests, such as Ezra. I personally plan to go armed tonight. Standish can come along - at least he can BS his way through the art." He turned to Kate. "Could you come?"

"I'm not sure I can pretend the art talk."

"You draw fine," Gibbs pointed out.

"I only know a little, Gibbs. I draw. I don't do modern art. Some people play the piano but can't name every one of Wagner's operas."

"You might come with me," Standish offered, smiling mischievously. "Your knowledge should be enough for us to supplement each other in conversation. And I would be honored to have such a fine lady to escort."

Kate laughed, then looked up at Tony, pointing to Ezra. "Watch and learn, Tony." She nodded to the Southerner. "I'd be delighted, Mr. Standish." She smiled, her eyes laughing. "How are you not married?"

"Ah, 'had I but world enough, and time...'" Ezra replied with a small mock bow. Orin looked at Ducky, shaking his head but smiling as the ME laughed.

"All right, all right," Orin finally cut in, suppressing a smile as he turned to the others. "I suppose you gentlemen will be going along also." Gibbs and Larabee nodded. The AD then turned to Nathan. "Nathan, I want you there."

"Me? Why?"

Orin sighed. "Chris is going. Ezra is going. We will need a doctor there, and I suspect you have more 'mean face' to turn on them than Ducky does." There was laughter, and then Orin turned to the ME with a worried expression, the request unspoken.

Ducky nodded assuringly at his old friend. There was no way he would allow Billy out of his sight.

* * *

"How're you guys holding up?" Buck asked as he and Tony came around to three sitting in front of the monitors.

"We're good for tomorrow's gallery ceremony," McGee replied. "We've got a feed into the museum and the camera across from Hopewell's compound."

Abby pointed over at the table. "These are for you," she pointed out to JD. "You and Nathan and Vin." She held up two tiny earpieces. "These are for Hopewell's cars." She held up a few flat bags of GPS locators. "You should be able to slip them under your clothes when you go in." Suddenly she added, "Oh, and Chris said he wanted to see you - something else he wants you to do with the cars and the GPS locators."

"What else would he want us to do?" JD puzzled. "And what about that dinner tonight? What's the plan?"

"The dinner won't be anything," Buck reassured him. "As for Chris, we'll have to sit and wait. Don't worry about tonight. Tomorrow's got enough trouble of its own."

* * *

NIGHT BEFORE OPENING  
LARABEE RANCH

Kate felt a tug on her dress, and looked down to see the Travis boy smiling up at her. "Hi, Billy."

"You look real pretty," Billy said, his tone a little awed as he smiled up at her and touched the soft material of the dress again. She smiled down at him, and he beamed. He suddenly seemed to gather his thoughts. "I mean, not as pretty as my ma, but second - "

At that, the men in the family room roared in laughter. "Billy, quit while you're still ahead," Buck chortled. "Trust me. With women, best to keep your mouth closed." At that, they roared even louder.

A puzzled Billy looked up at Kate, who was glaring at them before she crouched down to his level and asked, "Billy, is your ma pretty?"

"The prettiest in the world!" Billy announced.

"Well, then," Kate smiled at him, "I'm glad you think I'm second only to your ma." Billy beamed up at her.

"That doesn't work on my dates," Tony commented with a grin, to more laughter from the men.

"Tony, you're five times Billy's age," Kate retorted as she straightened.

"Ready to go?" Orin came to the door, Mary and Evie close behind. Chris and Gibbs appeared, adjusting the shoulder holsters hidden under their jackets. Ezra was complaining about the ATF budget not giving him a good enough suit, and Nathan was rolling his eyes.

Mary was talking to her son, who was beaming at her. She hugged him and they were about to go when Billy's face suddenly fell. He stood alone in the hallway, looking forlornly at all the adults: his mother, his grandparents, Chris, Nathan, Ezra, and the two NCIS agents. His eyes flickered nervously, and he opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. "Billy?" she asked gently. "What's wrong?"

The party turned, watching the child's eyes move nervously among them, and he asked fearfully, "Do all of you have to go?"

Kate looked up to see the expressions of the Travises and of the two team leaders, who stood there dumbfounded for a moment, the boy's fear etching pain in their faces.

"Sweetheart," Mary began gently, gathering her son up. "We're just going to the dinner." Billy frowned and clung more tightly to his mother, burying his face in his mother's arms. "Nothing will happen to me, Billy."

"Do all of you have to go?" came a desperate, muffled voice. Mary looked up helplessly at them, stroking her son's hair.

Chris could see that she was going to decide to opt out, and while he hated to go to these stupid things himself, she had to keep up appearances. If Hopewell was going to be duped into thinking that they weren't on to him - that they were just looking for Garcia's killers - then she had to go.

He watched the small child's arms tighten even more around his mother and exchanged looks with the Director and his wife. Gibbs' words flashed briefly in his head. "Billy, come here." The boy turned but didn't release his hold. "I want to show you something." Motioning to the others, he led them into the kitchen, where a surprised Ducky looked up at them. Chris just shook his head slightly, and the ME remained silent.

Ducky watched as the blond set Billy on top of the kitchen counter, reassuring him quietly. Chris then carefully lifted his black dinner jacket, revealing his holster around his waist and then a small shoulder holster. He pulled up a pants leg to reveal a small weapon strapped to his ankle. His two agents and Gibbs followed suit.

"Even Agent Todd is armed. Look," Chris consoled the boy, pointing to Kate, who lifted her slit-less dress which hid the weapon strapped to her calf. The boy nodded, now visibly more relaxed, and looked up at his hero again. "Billy. I'm not going to let anything happen to your ma or your Grandpa and Grandma, okay?"

The boy nodded trustingly and tightly hugged the ATF agent, who picked him up and set him on his feet on the kitchen floor.

"Come, Billy," Ducky finally spoke from the corner. His heart warmed when child's face light up, obviously having forgotten about his 'gran'uncle' who wasn't going to the dinner and wouldn't get hurt. "Would you like to spend tonight with your Uncle Ducky and the boys?"

Billy beamed, having been set to rights, and slipped a hand into the older man's. "Can you tell me stories?"

"Of course," Ducky replied gently as he knelt to the boy's level, and Orin looked at him gratefully. "We're going to have more fun than they are. They gotta listen to stuffy old speakers and dance with girls," the ME teased in a stage-whisper, and the boy properly looked horrified. "You stay with me, and we'll have a ball here at home."

"There's only one rule," Kate interjected in a serious tone. Stepping up close to the boy watching her attentively, she turned him to look into the testosterone-filled living room. "You be a good boy and don't listen to anything Tony tells you, okay?" The twinkle in her eyes was matched only by the amused chuckle from Gibbs.

Billy looked up at surprise at Kate, and then over to the men, who were arguing - this time, in banter - and had no idea what was going on. Puzzled, he conceded. "Okay."

"Don't you worry, Billy, my boy," Orin replied with a gentle smile at his grandson. "Everything will be quite fine."

* * *

SEVERAL HOURS LATER

Buck watched discreetly from the corner as Billy's eyes again drifted up to the clock. He exchanged a worried look with Josiah and Dr. Mallard.

They were supposed to have been back over an hour ago, and there was still no phone call. By now, a green ogre had saved a sassy princess - or vice versa, depending on how you looked at it; round green peas 'march'ed around a walled city, if one could call it marching; a yellow, pants-wearing sponge cheered when he saw David Hasselhoff - stupid sponge, Buck thought; and Jonah the Asparagus was currently being spewed up on the beach by the big fish who swallowed him.

The men had silently agreed to leave off the radio and the TV. Travis' short talk with them - as the one this morning - had made them more worried about the dinner event tonight than they had been. It was supposed to be a dinner - what could go wrong? But Travis' own caution made them nervous something might happen, and they didn't want Billy seeing it.

Besides, it could hardly hurt to leave off news of more murders, deaths, and scandals for just one night.

Ducky ever so slightly tightened his hold on his best friend's grandson, trying to reassure the child. Billy had been quiet all evening, and apparently the movie that often had him giggling hours after it ended was not doing so well today.

Buck's cell phone began to ring, and all three looked up as the tall agent answered. "Wilmington." There was a long pause. "Okay." His face went hard for a moment, and then he nodded. "Okay. We'll see you there."

"Where's Ma?" Billy blurted immediately in demand, only his wide-eyes showing his fear.

Ducky could tell from Buck's expression that their "tell Billy nothing" policy was rapidly going out the window...he doubted the big-hearted man could resist the child's worried look.

"Your ma's fine, Billy," Buck said gently. "She's just fine. We're going to see her now."

Billy paused a minute in relief before he frowned, his voice now small. "How come Chris isn't bringing her home?"

At that, all the men suddenly turned to the ATF agent, their own questions evident.

"Some...people got a little hurt," Buck tried. "It's not that bad, Billy, it's really not. But right now everybody's at the hospital, and Chris thinks it would be safer for us to meet all of them there." Buck paused, then added quickly and decisively, "Your ma's not one of them. She's fine."

"Oh." The boy furrowed his brow. "Did Ezra get hurt? 'Cause Chris and Nathan said they were gonna be really mad, and Nathan was mutterin' about tanning britches and Chris said he was just gonna shoot 'im."

Buck chuckled slightly. "Ez's is a little beat up, as are Gibbs and Chris, but otherwise they're fine." At that, Vin frowned, his forehead creasing, and Buck responded by saying quietly, "Billy, why don't you go with Josiah to get up a little bag of books or something to take along to the hospital, okay?"

Billy looked up at Ducky and Tony, then at Josiah, who reached out a hand to the boy. The boy smiled at his grandfather's old friend, who returned it, and left the room with the older agent.

"It's one of ours, isn't it," Tony said quietly.

Buck nodded reluctantly. "Kate took a shot to the stomach and one to her leg. From what Chris said, though, seemed like the bullet did a lot more damage internally."

"Stomach?" Ducky paled. A gut shot. He paused and tried to get his bearings. "What happened? Anyone else hurt?"

"Someone attempted to go short-range, and Kate stepped in between him and Mary just as he was drawing." Buck sighed. "She got it the worst. Ezra got grazed and dislocated his shoulder, but Nathan popped it back in; he's just going to be a little sore. Chris and Gibbs got banged up in the chaos after the shooting, but Kate is... Let's just get over there."

* * *

DENVER HOSPITAL

Chris looked up just as the sliding doors opened, and Billy came in, running at top speed. "Ma! Ma! Mommie!"

There were a few trace, but grim, smiles as the woman swept her son up, tightly hugging him. She had changed into blue scrubs, obviously lent to her by the hospital. Behind him came the medical examiner and the two ATF agents.

Chris didn't stop to exchange pleasantaries but went straight Ducky. "Kate's in the ER right now. She needs blood, but only Ezra's her blood type, and he lost a lot of blood when he got nicked in the head - Nathan prefers he not give any. McGee said you're her blood type."

Ducky nodded, biting back the comments about Chris' battered appearance. If Larabee looked like this, he hated to think what Jethro looked like. 'A little banged up, my foot.' And if they looked like this, well, what of Caitlin? "What did the doctor say?"

Chris shook his head. "Gibbs is listed as her next of kin, so the doctor told him stuff, but he won't talk to us; Nathan hasn't been able to get the doctor to crack, either, because she's not my agent. I got out of the nurse that she's critical but will probably be fine. They're over there." He motioned behind him. The ME started to leave, when Chris called firmly but quietly, "Doctor." Ducky turned to look at him. "A favor."

If it had been at any other time, Ducky was sure he would have laughed. The mighty Chris Larabee, asking a favor? And by the expression on his face, it wasn't something he did often. "Yes?"

Chris came over and lowered his voice even more. "I would be the last one to say anything if Billy weren't here." He paused a moment. "Try to convince Gibbs to change. The hospital left a pair of scrubs for him, but he's just ignoring everybody. He's got Kate's blood all over him, and I don't want Billy to get more upset than he will be when he notices Kate isn't in the waiting room."

Ducky nodded. "He'll change out of those clothes, if I have to do it myself." He was just about to go when he felt a small tug on his sleeve. Both men looked down to see a cherubic face smiling up at them, and Billy hugged Ducky. "Thanks for staying with me, Uncle Ducky."

Ducky knelt down to his level. "It was my pleasure, Billy, my boy." The boy smiled wider. "Now you be good for your mother. I've got a few things I have to do, all right?"

Billy nodded solemnly. Ducky smiled at him, then straightened and started for the ER. Behind him, he could hear Billy's childlike prattle to Larabee, and suddenly the question: "Where's Agent Kate? And where's Agent Gibbs? How come they're not here?"

* * *

Ducky rounded the corner to the ER waiting room, where a young couple was sitting in the corner, warily eyeing Gibbs. The silver-haired agent had a foul expression on his face, looking like a caged animal. A set of scrubs lay folded on a nearby chair, untouched.

It was worse than Chris had said. Besides the slowly forming black and blue bruises similar to those Chris was sporting, Gibbs' front side from about mid-chest to his waist was covered in blood; his hands were clean, but blood spattered on his sleeves indicated that his clean hands were merely from having washed them.

His shirt was probably sticking to his skin.

Ducky approached quietly, but Gibbs heard him and looked up. "All of you okay?"

"We're fine," Ducky said quietly and sat down in a nearby seat. "But you look terrible. You really should change, Jethro."

Gibbs' scowl deepend slightly, and he made no move to take the clothes or the scrubs. "I'm not wearing scrubs again."

Ducky sighed. He had been hoping he wouldn't have to bring out the big guns right away. "Jethro, Billy is here. Just as I got in here he was asking about you and Kate. The last thing he needs to see is your clothes looking like that." Ducky knew it was a low blow, but there wasn't much else he could use to hit home fast. "I will wait here."

After a moment, Gibbs took the scrubs and left for the bathroom.

* * *

ATF HEADQUARTERS

Kelly muttered a small curse as he rounded up his agents, his cell phone still pasted to his ear as he listened to Larabee. "Okay." He snapped the phone shut and turned to his team, who was looking at him concernedly.

"Mary Travis and Kate Todd are going to a safehouse tomorrow," he announced. "Larabee wants us to lead, and Tanner's contacted his old boss at the US Marshals to get us a good team to help us. Billy and Evie Travis are coming too.

"Tomorrow morning we bring Lawrence in to headquarters. Then we divide up - half of us are going to cover Lawrence and the other half to the safehouse. Dismissed."

Kelly tried not to yawn as he grabbed his bag to go and nearly crashed into one of his junior agents. "You're awake for this time of night."

The agent held up thick folder. "You remember that whole thing about the Stephen Travis case? You told me to look more closely in it."

Kelly paused and shrugged. "Yeah. Lynn Koschesky was the lead on that case. She's working this one, too."

"That's not everything to that case, boss."

* * *

DENVER HOSPITAL

Ducky went up into the small donation room, where he saw Ezra sitting in a chair, a needle in his arm, and the medic glaring darkly at him.

The elderly ME chuckled quietly as he sat down nearby. "Agent Standish, I am of the same blood type as Kate. You needn't give blood, now. I'm afraid from the looks of you that you don't have much to spare."

Nathan huffed at Ezra. "That's what I keep telling him. The fool never listens to me. You work on him, Doctor." He left.

Ezra just shook his head as Ducky moved to sit next to him. "I was only grazed."

"By the looks of it, a head wound. You must have lost a lot of blood."

"I'm fine, doctor." The Southerner clamped his mouth shut, a determined look on his face.

Ducky nodded as the nurse came by with a kit to draw his blood. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

"I had seen this suspicious-looking character and had moved to engage him," Ezra said quietly. "Apparently he was quite the oblivious fool. While I was gone, an elderly little lady approached Miss Todd and Ms. Travis. She had a small weapon up her sleeve; it took her mere seconds to have it in hand. Miss Todd stepped in between the shooter and began to wrestle the weapon from her hand; it discharged into her leg. The shooter shot her as she fled - I suppose, to kill, but Miss Todd moved in time and was shot in the stomach."

Ducky nodded quietly, not saying anything as the undercover agent detachedly finished the story. "It was not your fault." Just as he suspected, there was barely a flicker of response from Standish, but the older man had caught it. "I have been in the world of the undercover agent longer than you suspect," the ME replied with a slight smile. "I know the tricks. Whatever you may say, Agent Standish, I disagree with what you're THINKING - you are not to blame."

"I saw her," Ezra muttered, a tone of frustration emerging. "I saw her walking towards them and I thought, 'she's just a harmless elderly woman.' And I remember seeing her arm come up. I wear a small weapon up my sleeve. How could I not have noticed it?"

Ducky shook his head. "But Kate did. That's enough." The nurse finished up, and Ducky nodded his thanks. "What happened afterwards?"

"We went after the shooter - Director Travis, Mr. Larabee, and I. Ms. Travis and Mr. Gibbs were with Miss Todd - trying to stop the bleeding. We lost the shooter, and none of us got a decent look at the woman, either - except perhaps Miss Todd."

"This wasn't your fault, Agent Standish," Ducky replied gently. "No one blames you, and that includes any of us at NCIS, including Kate and Jethro."

The undercover agent turned an inscrutable look on the ME, after a pause, he said quietly, "You didn't see his face when he saw her bleeding on the floor, Doctor."

* * *

The two men headed downstairs, where they were met by a sea of grim faces. A few nodded, acknowledging their arrival. Ducky saw his friend in the blue scrubs. "They don't look so bad on you, Jethro," he commented, trying to lighten the mood a little.

The NCIS agent looked down at the scrubs. "Eh. Maybe in another lifetime."

The ME looked faintly surprised at the half-joking response. Vin looked up at him, his clear blue eyes twinkling ever so slightly. They flickered to the ICU sign, and Ducky smiled a little in reply. So they had finally taken Kate out of surgery; safely, it seemed.

The sniper then unconsciously pulled his slouch hat even lower over his eyes and explained in a low voice,"There are some Fibbies out in the lobby; they want to know what happened to Kate."

"They don't want to know that," Nathan snorted.

"Is Kate awake?" Ducky asked, but doubtfully. She most likely wouldn't be awake for awhile. His suspicion was confirmed when Gibbs shook his head.

"No one gets to Kate," Chris replied firmly. "I already told Kelly - they're going to take Mrs. Travis, Billy, Mary, and Kate to the safehouse tomorrow morning, as soon as Kate can be moved."

"She needs medical care," Nathan said for the thousandth time.

"She needs to be alive," Gibbs said shortly. "Ducky, can you go along?"

"Of course."

"If we're keeping any information from leaking out - and making sure the shooter doesn't get away - no one else can get access to Kate," Tony said pointedly. "Honestly, people are going to crawl over coals to get to her and get information. She's an easy target for everything. How are we going to prevent that, short of her dying?"

The agents exchanged looks, and then a slow grin spread over Chris' face. "So let's kill her off."

_TBC_


	9. Chapter 9

ï»¿

**The Mile High City Affair**

by Sammie

Disclaimer in part 1.

Thanks for the heads up on the word spacing; I figured out what was wrong. Whenever I used two hyphens to make a dash, the hyphens were cut and the two words smushed together. Why, I don't know. I've changed it in all the chapters.

I also fixed the mistake in 7; thanks for pointing it out.

Here are the last two chapters!

* * *

AIRPORT

Verucchi was in front as he and his team rushed onto the tarmac. He came to a breathless halt in front of the teams, turning instantly to the NCIS agent. "I...I am really sorry, Agent Gibbs."

Gibbs continued speaking to Tony. " - in charge of the investigation, report by 1700 Romeo every day. You have Kate's shooter in three. I'll be back after the funeral." Still ignoring Verucchi's outstretched hand, the senior NCIS agent turned and tilted the head at his casket, and the attendants on the tarmac pushed it towards the plane as he followed.

Lynn Koschesky turned to McGee. "Agent McGee, I am - "

"Yeah, well." McGee swallowed. "So are we all."

Verucchi turned to Tony. "Agent DiNozzo, I am sorry about what - "

Tony turned sharply to him. "You're going to be sorrier when Gibbs returns," he snapped. "I suggest that you get us what information we want, and soon, or I'll tell Gibbs you were withholding information...and he'll consider you just as guilty in Kate's death. He will chew off your butt, you got it? You're going to sit there and your butt's going to shrink so much that when you stand up, your torso's going fall straight down over your legs. And then he'll use one of his dozen Marine ways to kill you slowly." Tony narrowed his eyes. "And I will personally keep you alive until he returns."

Verucchi stared back, but after a minute, he nodded and then headed out with his FBI team. Behind them, the plane roared in its takeoff.

"Very intense, Tony," Abby commented, her eyes dancing. Tony grinned down at her.

McGee turned to the ATF agents. "This was a genius idea."

JD stood up straight, grinning proudly. "We're good, what can we say."

"Have you done this before?" Tony asked, turning to him with a slightly suspicious look.

"We buried the AD once." Chris chuckled.

Tony's grin widened. "OK. Now what?"

* * *

ATF HEADQUARTERS

"Marshals're on their way," Vin announced. "Chris is still downstairs, checkin' everything out."

Tony turned to Ducky, handing him a Kevlar and a weapon. "Here, Ducky, let me - "

Ducky slid into the vest expertly and picked up the sidearm, which he quickly checked to be loaded. He locked it, took the last two magazines from the hand of the shocked Tony and slipped them inside his pockets.

The now-silent but surprised agents turned to Orin, who just had a small smile on his face. At Tony's utter look of astonishment, the elderly director merely chuckled, his eyes twinkling at his old friend, who smiled in amusement. "I'm afraid you don't know much of anything Ducky and I did when we worked together, hm?"

The others just chuckled lightly, and then McGee asked, "Where are all of them right now?"

"Downstairs just inside the loading area," Verucchi replied. "The escort comes in an hour, and they'll be ready to go." He handed a small card. "Numbers, etc. Doc, you've still got some time. I'll see you downstairs." With that, he headed out.

Tony signaled Gibbs, who came out once Verucchi had left. The older agent unfolded a large sheet of paper to reveal a drawing of a face. "Kate woke up this morning, did this before Kelly's team came to take her. This isn't her best work, but it should at least give us some reference."

Vin nodded. "Kelly's boys brought Lawrence in this mornin'. Maybe on some off chance she can ID that woman."

"Can I suggest something?" McGee spoke up. When the two agents and the assistant director turned to him, he said, "Based on your descriptions of the shooter, it seems that the old woman look is merely a disguise. The FBI uses a software program on photos of missing children to show what they look like today. To create that program, they needed age-specific criteria - wrinkles, length of nose and ears, everything."

"And this helps us how?"

"Based on the drawing Kate gave us, we can use the computer program to put together a color, dimensional photo of what the suspect looks like. We'll take out the wrinkles, look at the length of the nose and the ears, and have the program determine an age and then give us a picture closer to what she actually looks like. It might be easier to identify her that way."

"How long will this take?" Orin asked.

"Not long."

"Get started, then."

* * *

"We got to get a good lure - a good target - to pull this woman out. If you were the killer, who is your biggest threat right now," Buck put forth, rolling his chair up to the impromptu gathering in the bullpen.

"Kate," Nathan supplied. "She looked right at him, long enough to supply a drawing. She's a federal agent, too. He'll get nailed in court if she lives to identify him."

"Since Miss Todd is in prime condition to be a bullseye," Ezra replied sardonically retorted. "I highly doubt your team leader will allow her out of that safehouse, much less play a target."

"Mary," Buck cut in. "She was next to Kate and sort of remembers her face."

"'I highly doubt YOUR team leader will allow her out of that safehouse, much less play a target one more time,'" Tony mimicked.

"There is one more, brothers." Josiah leaned forward, his tone heavy. "Beckie Lawrence."

The agents exchanged a few looks.

"They suspect Garcia told her at least something; she's been seen in the company of the ATF ever since."

Buck nodded, although the distaste at the idea was obvious. "We let her out for short spin around the block. They'll target her immediately."

"Involving civilians bad idea," Tony countered.

"You got a better plan?" JD retorted.

"How are we even going to get her to agree to this?"

"Tell Orin," replied a familiar voice at the bullpen door. They turned to see the elderly ME approach, looking surprisedly different in a loose turtlenck covering a holster. "When we worked together, we unfortunately had to recruit numerous civilians to jump start our cases. Orin was a natural at convincing them to help." Ducky's eyes twinkled. "Iâ€™ve always told him that one day his devastating charm would backfire."

"He can get her to play bullseye for a professional killer?" Tony asked doubtfully. "No one's that good."

The older man merely looked amused. "Orin was always fond of saying, 'When youâ€™ve got it, youâ€™ve got it.' Have some faith, Tony; he's got it."

"I fear Mr. Travis is as devious as the good doctor says," Ezra drawled from his desk. When the NCIS agents looked at him, he replied, "How else do you think he has gotten us seven to stay?" He smiled at the ME, who chuckled.

* * *

Chris shut his desk drawer and checked the weapon, then held out a vest to Mary. "Your father-in-law pulled some of Kelly's guys to help," he said in a low voice. "The rest of Kelly's boys are going to take you, Billy, Evie, and Kate somewhere safe until we pinpoint exactly where Hopewell is."

He turned around the weapon he had just checked, holding it out to her. Looking a little shocked, she carefully took it. "Leave Billy with Evie. Orin'll bring Dr. Mallard down here in just a little while; he's got a weapon, too. Kate is also armed, so you shouldn't have to use it. If you do, remember what I taught - "

"'Aim well; one good shot is better than six bad ones; keep moving after a miss,'" Mary murmured as she unconsciously tightened her hold on the sidearm.

A tiny smile twitched at the corner of his mouth, and the ATF agent nodded. "Good girl."

* * *

Tony watched doubtfully through the one-way mirror as Travis continued to talk to Lawrence. He couldn't see the assistant director's face, and Lawrence's was generally unreadable. "I hope this works."

Just then the door connecting to the backroom opened, and Orin came in. Expectant faces turned to him, and he said shortly, "Vin, take JD and Nathan - get up to Hopewell's compound, go do what Chris had planned. Hopewell will move as soon as he hears whether this worked or did not work, and I have no intention of letting him go this time. I will let Chris know."

He turned to the others. "Get Miss Lawrence in a vest and wired up, boys. Duck, let's get you out of here."

* * *

It had taken longer than expected to explain to Lawrence how this was going to work - mostly because they had barely been ready. Lawrence thought the picture of the shooter seemed somewhat like somebody she knew, but she wasn't sure; and then Tony and McGee had come up with another idea.

Each thought, privately, that it was too bad Kate hadn't been here to see it.

"How we doing, probie?" Tony asked, bending down to look at the screen.

"We're set to go. Ezra's already at the door," McGee replied. A camera across the street taking in the bar scene showed the many patrons in the establishment. The NCIS agent wished briefly there were less. It would make his job easier.

They'd done it before when Tony and Kate had gone undercover as talent agents, so when Tony had pulled him aside to ask him the plausibility of it, he understood. The idea was to use that when they took Lawrence to the bar. The only problem - there were too many patrons, and without anyone having seen her real face, it would be very difficult to identify the shooter positively just on sight.

On the left hand sides of both his and Abby's computers were a scanned-in version of Kate's sketch and the cleaned up picture done by the computer program. He had charge of Lawrence's camera, hidden in a pair of eyeglasses. Abby had charge of Buck's and Ezra's, the former's in a button on his collar and the latter's like Lawrence's.

They watched together on Abby's computer as Ezra's camera moved into the bar. Dots of sweat appeared on McGee's forehead, and he wiped his hands on his pants nervously.

* * *

INEZ'S BAR AND RESTAURANT  
DENVER, CO

"I cannot believe I have agreed to this," muttered the manager as she scrubbed down the counter vigorously. "What possessed me to do this?"

"Your undying love for the ATF," Ezra replied, his grin widening when the fiery Mexican woman glared at him. He pushed his glasses up his nose and ran a hand through his disguise's blond hair and then asked thoughtfully, "What was it that you said Agent Gibbs did for you?"

"Señor Gibbs was the substitute summer English teacher at the base when I first came to America," Inez replied, "and I am not doing this out of my debt of gratitude to him because he was not the one who asked." The woman narrowed her eyes at Ezra. "I, of course, assume that the ATF will pay for all damage done today."

"My dear Miss Rescillos, why do you assume there will be damage done today?" Ezra asked cavalierly. He got a look of utter disbelief at his statement. He conceded with a sheepish shrug.

* * *

ATF HEADQUARTERS

"Uh, can I, um, use the bathroom?" Lawrence stammered nervously.

"Right over there," Buck pointed. "Let me hold your stuff."

She handed it over to him and stepped nervously into the small bathroom and shut the door. McGee stood just across, waiting with Buck, when they heard a loud retching that continued for a few minutes. The toliet flushed, and the sink ran for a little bit, and then the door opened and the young woman came out, looking even more pale and shaky than she had before, her skin taking on a clammy look.

"Tic Tac?" Tony offered helpfully, holding up a small box.

She took it gratefully, and in a fit of nervousness, dumped a whole handful into her mouth. "Thanks," she mumbled.

As the others exchanged concerned looks, McGee murmured a silent prayer for the operation.

* * *

HOPEWELL TEMPORARY RESIDENCE  
OUTISDE OF DENVER

"OK," Vin nodded as they stepped into the compound's garage, having left their car behind to avoid notice. "JD, take care of the cars. Don't want no one but Hopewell and maybe few others to make it outta here. C'mon, Nate."

JD made a face as his senior teammates crept into the compound. He popped a hood ever so quietly and looked around, then yanked a spark plug.

"How're you doin', JD?" Abby's voice came over the intercom softly.

"I'm pulling spark plugs out of cars," JD grumbled as he yanked another set from another car and then put a GPS locator on the third. "Vin and Nate went inside to the compound, and here I am, disabling cars."

Abby and McGee chuckled on the other end. "Hear any nuns screeching about climbing every mountain?" Abby kidded.

"Oh no," JD half-whispered, half-moaned. "PROMISE me you won't tell Buck!"

* * *

INEZ'S BAR

Buck went into Inez's bar before Lawrence did, scanning out all the areas that were potential target areas for a sniper from another building. Thankfully, with the few windows in the building, there weren't many. Lawrence had been carefully instructed to avoid sitting in the direct path of any windows or doors. He seated himself in a corner, where he could get a good line of sight to the bar.

Ezra had already moved around a bit, from the bar to a table and then to the bathroom - all without getting a face. Inez hadn't noticed anyone unusual among her workers, but then again, she had a lot of business and a fair amount of employees.

Tony was waiting outside in the car, monitoring the flow of patrons in and out. They had agreed to maintain as much of intercom silence as they could, not wanting to tip anybody off before they had a chance to be taking pictures. After he scanned the area quickly, then signaled by hand to the car caddy-corner. It pulled up and Lawrence stepped out, looking like she was about to be sick. Again. Tony groaned to himself mentally. What a mistake.

Ezra's eyes flickered briefly as Lawrence came in and seated herself at one of the tables, as planned. The microphone secretly attached inside her Kevlar vest let them hear everything.

_"What'll it be?"_

_"Club soda," Lawrence replied in a tone so clear and firm it surprised them all._

_"Sure thing." _

"Patron at Lawrence 3 o'clock, no dice," came McGee's voice. Buck's eyes flickered there briefly to the sharp-looking man wearing a rather large coat. Yeah, he was too big to be the shooter they were looking for.

Suddenly Tony winced as McGee began shouting into her microphone about Lawrence's waiter, and evidently Buck and Ezra heard it too; he saw them as they moved quickly towards Lawrence. "Ezra! Ten o'clock, give me a visual," Abby's voice came over. A few seconds later, "Match! It's the waitress."

Ezra's arm shot across, snatching the tray from the waitress and upending it. Buck ran forward, barely flashing his badge as they converged on the counter. A full bar brawl broke out; at one point, as Tony rushed in, he saw Inez fling a bottle straight at a patron, knocking him out of his fight with Standish. "Your timing is again impeccable, Miss Rescillos," came Standish's unhurried voice. The NCIS agent shook his head mentally at Standish as he looked around for Lawrence. She had at least the wisdom to back off; she seemed to want to melt into the crowd, but suddenly seemed to think better of it and just ducked out of the way.

The waitress was reaching for her weapon. "Go for it, honey!" Tony dared, his own up as he stepped in front of Lawrence.

The 'waitress''s hands stopped moving to her back pocket. As if sliding forward and up in surrender, they neared the part of the counter where the intrepid bar manager kept a shotgun.

"That's enough," Buck hissed, his own weapon pointed straight at her.

The now silent restaurant stood in shock, watching the scene unfold as Buck and Ezra patted her down and handcuffed her. Outside, police cars roared up.

Tony turned to Lawrence. "You OK?" he asked with genuine concern. She nodded blankly, still looking peaked.

Ezra hopped over the bar as Buck escorted the perp out. "I believe this calls for a celebratory drink," he announced. "We have our shooter and Miss Rescillo's establishment remains fairly unt - " he looked around the chaotic room "remains still standing." He laid out a few glasses. "What will it be, gentlemen?"

* * *

HIGHWAY NEAR HOPEWELL COMPOUND

Chris sat in the ATF town car, having just picked up Vin and Nathan. He looked at the southbound lanes again impatiently. In the car a mile or so down, facing northbound, was Gibbs with Josiah and JD. Tony, Buck, and Ezra had dropped off a shaken Lawrence with the half of Kelly's team responsible for her protection; the still nameless shooter had been taken into custody. The three were driving to meet them now.

Chris muttered a small curse. Waiting - even if it meant to catch the jerk of a governor - was not one of his strong points. "He's heading south on the interstate," McGee suddenly radioed. "He's the white Bronco."

"Please tell me that's a bad joke," came Buck's voice. "White Bronco fleeing LEOs on the highway? Which way?"

"South!" Abby answered, then winced as a litany of curses came over the line, followed by shouts of "Turn around, turn around!" and the acceleration of some other cars.

Ahead of them, Josiah saw Chris' car shoot forward, the engine gunning. The tiny dot disappeared behind a hill for a moment, then reappeared.

"All the exits have been blocked off," McGee's voice came over the line. "And the Denver Police are coming. You can chase him right into them."

Chris' low hiss crackled over the line; the profiler knew well his boss didn't like the idea.

Apparently Gibbs didn't like the idea either. "We don't have the time," the NCIS agent said into the intercom. "We cut him off now before he passes that field." Seeing an emergency vehicle turn around coming up, he suddenly jerked up the parking brake.

"H-ll!" Nathan exclaimed from Chris' car in an uncharacteristic shout as the three ATF agents watched the back end of Gibbs' car whip around almost 180 degrees, swerving into the southbound lanes after taking one of the highway turn-arounds meant for cop cars. All three started at the never-before-heard screech over the intercom.

"JD, are you all right?" came McGee's voice over the com.

"Why do you assume it was me!" JD's indignant exclamation came across the earpieces in a too-high voice, giving himself away.

"How did the man even obtain his driver's license?" Ezra pondered into the intercom.

Chris slowed and parked so he blocked the turn-around, taking care to avoid hitting Gibbs' stopped car. He could see Josiah already crouched behind the vehicle, weapon in hand, as was JD. Gibbs was slamming the trunk down, having pulled a large shotgun from it. Police cars were pulling up on all sides, building a wall to trap in the fleeing perp.

Although he'd only disabled four cars, JD noted that of the ten cars in the garage, there were only four, not six, coming; three began to slow. One hesitated, then started to speed up. Gibbs fired, sending a shotgun round into the windshield; Vin's rifle shot went straight into one of the front tires. The car began to screech, the metal of the wheel scraping the concrete, and agents and cops scrambled to get out of its way.

The car slowed and the ear-shattering screech died as the car careened into a ditch on the side of the road. The smoke was clearing as Gibbs and Larabee reached the car. The ATF boss opened the car door before pulling a huffily protesting Hopewell out; he was followed by Horace, who drew his gun.

The ex-governor's assistant had the gun pointed at the agents, a dark look on his face, when Vin grinned, his blue eyes twinkling as he stepped forward and opened his hand, letting a round of revolver bullets drop to the ground.

Horace paled.

Gibbs and Larabee advanced, growing smirks on their faces. Hopewell scowled at Larabee. "I remember you."

"It's nice to be remembered," Chris replied, the feral grin crossing his face.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Somebody was paid to shoot Mary Travis," Gibbs replied. "My agent got caught in the crossfire."

"But you wouldn't know anything about that, now would you," Buck growled.

"Look," Hopewell spat angrily. "Are you insinuating that I had something to do with it? I resent the implication I had anything to do with your agent's death. I will not stand by and listen to my good name be dragged through the mud."

"How'd you know Gibbs' agent was dead?"

"It was on the news," Hopewell snarled. "I haven't done anything. As before, I suggest you gentlemen produce more evidence before you sully a man's good reputation and I sue for libel."

Smirking, Chris leaned over, pulling back the lapel of the man's coat and reaching into an inner pocket to pull out an envelope which he handed to Gibbs. Hopewell paled.

Gibbs held the envelope at a distance. "Oh, 'Rebekah Lawrence,'" he read in a mockingly surprised tone, then put on a look of disturbance as he looked at Hopewell. "How you've changed." The snickers behind him only made Hopewell glare at him even more darkly.

"You in the habit of readin' other people's mail?" Larabee drawled, obviously enjoying this far more than he was supposed to.

Gibbs tore open the letter, squinted at the print for awhile before Tony held out a hand to take the letter. "'Dear Beckie, I think you'll be seeing my name on the news pretty soon, and it'll all be about how Mike Garcia took a murder job for money.'" Tony handed the letter back to his boss as he looked Hopewell. "And then it goes on to talk about Hopewell, even mentions how, if they aren't on it already, she's to take the letter to Vin and the ATF and to the NCIS."

Larabee was watching Hopewell with unadulterated pleasure by now. "Arrest 'im, read 'im his rights."

The agents were still gleefully arresting Hopewell when Chris' phone rang again, and he moved off to answer it. The others looked at each other and then began laughing, taking time to catcall Hopewell as the cops pushed him into a car.

"Hey, kid." Buck turned to his friend, his eyes dancing merrily. "Heard ya did good work on 'em cars."

For a split second, JD got a look of panic he quickly covered with a cool expression. "Thanks, Buck."

"Just like 'em nuns who had to confess to the Mother Superior that they were the ones who stopped up the Nazis' cars," Buck grinned. "You'd look good in a habit."

JD's mouth fell open, and he turned to McGee, narrowing his eyes. "You told!"

"I didn't tell, I swear!" McGee promised. "I didn't know Tony was standing behind us when Abby said what she did!"

JD glared. "You are so dead."

Buck was about to launch into a rendition of "The Sound of Music" when Chris came over, his dark expression killing the laughter and teasing. The explosives man asked quietly, "Chris, what's wrong?"

"Kelly just called," Chris replied in barely controlled fury. "Two guys masquerading as US Marshals tried to kill Mary and Agent Todd at the safehouse."

"What!"

"Are they all right?" Buck asked.

"How they'd know they were at a safehouse?" Tony exclaimed.

"They're fine and Kelly doesn't know," Chris answered both shortly. "It's under control right now." He turned to Gibbs, quiet for a moment before murmuring, "The shooters positively identified your agent as NCIS. Hopewell thinks your agent is dead, and we told the Marshals Agent Todd was Ducky's daughter."

All the agents looked down the highway where the cop car with Hopewell had gone, followed by an escort, grim looks on their faces. "What are we going to do now, Chris?" JD groaned in frustration.

_TBC_


	10. Chapter 10

**The Mile High City Affair**

by Sammie

Disclaimer in part 1.

Thanks to the Black Powder site for its ballistics/wounds/etc. help.

* * *

SAFEHOUSE  
UNDISCLOSED LOCATION

"I've got an open wound," whined an unfamiliar voice from inside the safehouse. "Come on! This is inhumane! I'll sue! If I - "

"Quit yer yammering," snarled Kelly. "Or I'll get Doc Mallard to shut you up permanently."

"He can't do that! He's a medical doctor! They're supposed to do no ha - "

"He's a medical examiner, and if you don't shut up, I'll put you on his autopsy table right next to your friend."

At that, the agents visibly relaxed, lowering their weapons. Chris banged on the front door, and one of Kelly's men opened it, waving towards the back. There was Kelly, half of his team, and one perp...with his hands tied up and somehow strapped to the top of his head with a bowtie. "A bowtie?" Gibbs wasn't impressed.

"It's not like we had a whole lot of options," Kelly replied. He sat back and took another gulp of his soda. "What took you ladies so long to get here? Stop at the spa? Find a good deal at Macy's? Get your hair done? We called two hours ago."

"His hair look like we stopped at a barber for two hours?" Chris waved at Gibbs' head. "Who're they?"

"One's dead. That motormouth" the Team 8 boss waved at the man with his hands tied up on his head "lawyered up fast."

As if on cue, the man hollered, "My butt's killing me! I'm bleedin' ALL over your couch! If - "

"Shut up," Chris snapped.

Kelly scowled at the shooter. "I hope you brought duct tape for his mouth."

"Ain't MacGyver," Gibbs replied. "What happened?"

"When the two of them came in, they said they were Marshals Dan Yanish and Kent Andrews, both of whom are on our approved list. Their IDs matched them and they were both on the approved list, so Kate let them in."

"Mary?" Chris cut in.

"She's fine. Kate had suggested - and I agreed - to put Ducky, Evie, Billy, and Mary in another room farther in, away from the front. Motormouth clobbered Kate over the head and kicked her right where the stitches were; three of us were shot at trying to get her."

"Where is she?" Gibbs asked pointedly.

"Mary'n Kate are in the next room," Kelly replied, his voice softening a little. "You should talk to your ME; Kate let him treat her. I've got Johnson outside her window and Carter at the door, so they're safe."

"And the other?" Chris asked as Gibbs headed out.

"They were closer to the door than we were, and the motormouth gave covering fire as his friend went inside. Mary and Ducky both shot at him; from the looks of it, he was dead before he hit the ground. When this guy heard this shooting inside, he started to run."

"His agent shot me in the rear!"

"You tried to kill five people," Chris shot back before turning to Kelly. "And the Marshals?"

"Found Yanish and Andrews, passed out and stuffed in the trunk of a car a mile out - chloroform. Tweedledee and Tweedledum took the two Marshal IDs and somehow cut out the photo and put theirs in pretty expertly."

Chris nodded at Kelly. "All right. We'll wrap up here."

Kelly nodded. "See ya in Denver," he called as the three scattered.

* * *

She was curled up slightly on the couch, lying on her good side, covered in a blanket. The frown and the slightly furrowed brow indicated her rest wasn't as restful as it should be. When she shivered, Mary, sitting nearby, took off her long coat and laid it worriedly over the agent.

"You two OK?"

Both started, Kate instinctively reaching under her pillow for what he assumed was her Sig Sauer. Recognizing who was at the door, Mary helped Kate sit up, then murmured a quiet excuse to go.

"Oh, that's not my blood," Kate replied as she saw him looking at some blood on her shirt. "Ducky already checked me over. I think that blood's from the jerk who clobbered me, or from the one who's dead." He still didn't look happy, so she tried to lighten the mood. "If Mary Travis is any evidence, Chris Larabee is a good shooting teacher," she smiled weakly.

Gibbs nodded as he moved forward, remembering the plucky Marine wife Laura Rowans. "Smart Marines always teach their wives to shoot. Larabee would do the same for Ms. Travis."

"Did you teach your wives?" Kate replied, her amused curiosity dancing in her eyes, which just got her Gibbs' usual dare-you-to-ask look.

"Let me see that side again," came the familiar voice of the ME as he entered. Ducky sat at down at the edge of the couch, Gibbs moving to the arm of the couch at the other end. He gently lifted her shirt to inspect the stitches. "Thankfully, still no internal bleeding. The good Lord only knows how they didn't rip when he punched you. How's your head?"

Kate closed her eyes. "Still hurts. He pistol-whipped me. How's Mary? She seemed a little shaken."

"She should be fine. The dear girl shot the man twice straight in the stomach," Ducky explained to both agents as he patted his own stomach area. "I went straight for the head. Yes, I think Mary was hoping he could be taken alive, and went for the gut instead. Agent Larabee taught her well. Indeed, some of the great gunfighters of the Old West understood what we today can merely verify - that is, that the so-called 'gut shot' could end a fight the way no other - "

"Duck," Gibbs said warningly. "How is Kate."

Ducky smiled down at the young woman and patted her arm gently. "You will be quite all right, my dear. Move carefully."

* * *

Chris found her repacking her small bag, shoving things inside with unnecessary force. When Mary came to the last item, the small Colt he had taught her to use, she paused, holding it, then started to unload it.

He crossed the room and gently took the gun from her, unloading it with one smooth motion. She turned to her things, not looking at him, and quietly zipped the bag shut.

He put an arm around her, hugging her gently, and felt her shudder a little, the wear of having shot another human being starting to show.

* * *

ATF INTERROGATION ROOM

"If you gentlemen would please refrain from bullying the poor man," came an officious British voice. They parted as Standish came in, his stylish glasses matching the expensive Italian suit. He looked indignantly at Tony, Vin, and Buck. "Such boorish behavior is not appreciated," he huffed, pointing at the perp's hands tied on top of his head.

"Psst. It wasn't them," the shooter and fake 'marshal' replied. "It was the ATF agent with the girly last name that tied me up. And his agent shot me in the rear!"

"Sir, it would behoove you to allow me to do the talking," Ezra replied without giving him a second glance. "While I am sure Special Agent Kelly has some part of the blame, I am of the opinion the responsibility for this sad state of affairs rests on the shoulders of these Neanderthal-like cretins. I cannot believe I am forced to work in such hideous conditions. I simply do not get paid enough to endure these indignities."

On the other side of the mirror, McGee and JD snickered.

"Now, if you gentlemen - and the term is entirely honorific - will excuse us, I would like to speak with the man," Ezra continued haughtily as he pointed the three men out the door.

"Pompous windbag," Buck muttered loud enough for Ezra to hear.

"Word of the day calendar, Special Agent Wilmington?"

As they left, they could hear the perp asking, "Are you a lawyer?"

"You called for one, did you not?"

"He's going to get our whole case blown," McGee whispered, standing behind the mirror. "He can't pretend to be a lawyer!"

"Don't worry. Ez'll get the rules to limbo without breakin' 'em."

"Now, I understand that you would like to enter a plea bargain?"

"I got info fer ya." The perp paused. "But not 'til I get a deal!"

"My dear chap, the deal depends entirely on the information. If you were to say, 'I had a sausage biscuit this morning,' no lawyer could get you a plea bargain. Indeed, no lawyer with any dignity would be stupid enough to approach Special Agent Larabee even to ask for one."

The perp whispered something in Standish's ear. Everyone leaned forward as they watched his expression darken. "That is indeed helpful information."

"So, what kind of deal do I get?" the perp asked eagerly.

"Considering you tried to kill Director Travis' daughter-in-law...his wife...his grandson...a NCIS federal agent...and a NCIS medical examiner who happens to be Director Travis' oldest friend?" Standish replied in a mirthless tone, the British accent gone as he turned at the door. He smirked at the now pale man. "You tell me what kind of deal you'll expect to get."

* * *

The office door slammed shut and the two men stood, glaring at each other. "It had to have been an inside job," Gibbs half-hissed. "How do I know your man Kelly didn't do it?"

"Kelly is the only team boss in this whole building I trust with my back," Chris retorted. "It's not him."

"How do you know that?"

"Why do we follow hunches based on your gut?"

Larabee and Gibbs fell into a furious silence for a few moments, ignoring each other as each tried to piece together how they had managed to let slip a killer. Finally calmer, Gibbs began thinking aloud. "Kelly and his team took everyone to the safehouse. They started here in Denver; half the team took Ducky, Ms. Travis, and Billy from HQ while the other took Kate straight from the hospital and met them halfway."

"At that point, half of Kelly's team takes them on to the safehouse; the other returns here to take care of Lawrence." Chris shook his head. "If he were the one, it would be easier to ambush along the way."

"At the safehouse they met the US Marshals, but the two assassins were fakes." Gibbs paused. "Still doesn't tell us how they knew about the safehouse."

They fell silent again when Chris suddenly straightened, heading for the door. "We weren't the only ones here when Mary and the others left!"

* * *

FBI HEADQUARTERS

The FBI agent came around the corner, puzzled at the looks he was getting. He stopped when he saw the long-haired sniper sitting in his chair, his feet propped up on his desk, watching amusedly as his mustached friend paused in his snipping to look at the Chia head with a more critical eye. "Needs a bit more off'n the top, Buck," Vin drawled from underneath his hat.

"You're right. Man, this high and tight stuff is difficult to cut."

"That why ya joined the Navy?"

"Have you seen Gibbs' hair? I'd never get a date with hair like that."

Vin chuckled. "I don't think datin' was his problem in the Corps, Buck."

"I doubt Mr. Gibbs has trouble attracting women, either," commented Standish from where he was perched, reading a magazine.

"Yeah, right," Buck scoffed. "The only person who glares more than Gibbs is Chris."

"I think women are more attracted to Mr. Larabee than they are to you, Mr. Wilmington."

"Scary 'nuff as that thought is, I think Ez's right."

Wilmington pointed the open business end of his scissors at his teammates. "Hey - "

The FBI agent finally cleared his throat, and the three ATF agents looked up as if seeing him for the first time. Buck held up the Chia head, flashing Tom Verucchi a huge smile of unconcealed amusement. "You really should take him to the barber more."

Vin grinned up at the man, his eyes barely visible with the brim of his hat pulled down over his face, and pretended suddenly to realize where he was. "Oh. Is this yours?" He brought his feet to the floor with a lazy bang but didn't get up.

"What do you want?" Verucchi asked tightly.

"Fer ya to take a trip downtown with us."

"There is an excellent new French eatery that just moved into the spot across from ATF headquarters," Ezra offered brightly.

Verucchi's eyes narrowed. "You arresting me?"

"Nobody's forcin' ya int'anything," Vin replied genially. There were clicks behind Verucchi, and he turned around to find several rather cheery federal agents staring back at him, guns pointed at him. "Motormouth 'n 'Jolene Garrett' are waiting on ya."

Verucchi just sneered. "You fail in catching a killer, so you play the favorite ATF game...'Shoot the FBI agent'."

Ezra just chuckled and held up a small cassette. He inserted it into the tape player on Verucchi's desk and let it roll. Within a few seconds, Gibbs and Chris' voices poured out, answered by Hopewell's as he admitted to hiring Verucchi.

"You can practice your hokey pokey right now by turnin' around," JD grinned, holding up a pair of handcuffs.

Once handcuffed, Verucchi was turned around and pushed forward, nearly crashing into a smaller body. He looked down and blanched.

Kate's smile widened and she stepped right up so she was nose to nose to him. "You look a little pale, Agent Verucchi," she said with mock concern.

"DEATH-ly pale," JD supplied, to groans.

Kate smirked. "You sent in those fake Marshals to kill Mary, and they reported I was there." She grinned. "They don't know who I am...they ask you. Too bad you didn't know we told the Marshals I was Ducky's daughter. So who told those two shooters that I was NCIS?" She pretended to think and looked at him before saying sarcastically, "I have no idea."

"It was kinda smart, wasn' it." Buck's levity gone. "Being the good agent, hiring Garcia like the FBI wanted you to, then setting up him and Lawrence. Everybody could believe he went back to his old ways. Everybody could believe he suckered his old friend, especially with that expensive house she's got on her pitiable salary. Perfect targets."

"And you brought on Tim Bozo Bickerstaff onto your team," Josiah continued. "Flashy temper, authority issues, interagency problems. If something like this went down, he'd be the suspect."

"You just didn't bank on Garcia findin' out," Vin replied in a low voice, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Didn't know he was smart'r than you thought...didn't know he didn't trust ya...didn't count on him findin' out 'bout Hopewell, 'bout how you backstabbed him, 'bout his 'spotter'."

"You know how we catch guys like you?" Tony walked over, eyeing him. "Guys like you think too much. Try to make your crimes so nice and tidy and clean. Tiny slip, and bam...you've handed the case over."

"Tell us how it works." Kate's eyes narrowed and her arms crossed. "Feds don't pay enough...you invest big time in Wheeler hotel enterprises and Frank Elliot's banks, and then Stephen Travis ends up dead. Shot."

"Yer super gives ya 'much needed time off' 'cause of conflict of int'rest in the Travis case." Vin's voice dropped even lower as he narrowed his eyes at Verucchi. "You protect yer money by tamp'ring with the evidence yer Lynn Koschesky got, pushin' 'er to think it was some robb'ry gone bad...then Mary and us, we blow it wide open...and 'em two go to jail, you lose all that money."

Verucchi exploded. "My wife left me when we lost our finances! That SOB Stephen Travis should have never gone digging into those land deeds, and maybe he'd be alive."

"So what is this?" Kate snapped. "Revenge?"

"Yeah, maybe Mary Travis wouldn't have to worry about being killed if she hadn't tried to figure out why her HUSBAND DIED!" Buck exclaimed disgustedly.

"Please, Verucchi," Ezra replied smoothly but disdainfully. "That's preposterous logic. Really, with the entire federal law enforcement records at your hands, you should have investigated before you invested...or, oh, I don't know..." he glared "reported it when you found out Wheeler and Elliott were falsifying land deeds. Much less cover up the fact that you knew Stephen Travis was most likely murdered over those deeds."

Verucchi hissed at him. "My wife would still be with me if that witch had left her husband's death alone."

"No," Kate hissed. "Your wife would still be with you if you hadn't knowingly invested in criminal business and tried to cover up a murder."

Tony smirked at Verucchi's angry face. "You're a lucky man, you know that? Since Larabee gets to beat the cr-p out of Hopewell, you only have to contend with Gibbs, who'll just beat your pretty boy face for trying to kill our coworker." He turned Verucchi around and pushed him toward the elevator, the others following close behind.

They steered him past his silent colleagues to the elevator. There was a ding, and the elevator doors opened to reveal Gibbs and Larabee inside; the hardened looks on the men's faces quickly disappeared at the sight of Verucchi in cuffs, replaced by feral grins of anticipation.

The FBI agent in front of Vin visibly stiffened; yeah, Chris and Gibbs smiling like that were a lot scarier than their usual growl. The sniper leaned forward, his voice low and harsh. "The most dangerous man, Verucchi?" The Texan looked over the FBI agent's shoulder at the team bosses' predatory expressions. "The most dangerous man is the one who can't be bought."

* * *

NEXT MORNING  
ATF HEADQUARTERS

The next morning the agents came in early to find Wilmington already there, face buried deep in a file. Four other ATF agents instantly turned to JD, who looked innocently at them. McGee paused, then grinned. Buck should've known better than to tease JD about "The Sound of Music" nuns.

Chris emerged from his office, a pair of office scissors and shaving kit in hand which he plunked down on Buck's desk. "Buck, it's beyond saving."

At that the entire bullpen turned to him. Buck made a face, lowering his file to reveal a hap-hazardly hand-snipped mustache tinged neon pink, apparently done while he was asleep. There was a long silence, broken by a few muffled laughs. Those who dared got dark looks from the explosives expert.

The sniper sat back in his seat, an appraising twinkle in his eye. "I think the ladies'll like it, Bucklin," he drawled in a teasing tone as the explosives man glared at him. "The pink's nice, and ya look ten years younger than yer and Chris' old geezer age." The blond in question glared at his friend, whose amused smile grew wider. "Quit glarin', cowboy. Ya know it's true."

"I must agree with Mr. Tanner," Standish replied. "It is much more becoming than that thing which crawled onto your lip to die...a prolonged death."

"Ya can save on that hair dye now to cover up them gray hairs in the mustache," Vin added. "JD did ya a real favor."

The NCIS agents just chuckled, watching the scene unfold.

The phone on the desk rang, and Nathan picked it up. "Jackson. ... OK. See ya." He turned to Buck, a big grin on his face. "Shave fast, Buck. We're gonna have a video conference with Hawaii in five minutes."

* * *

ATF CONTROL ROOM

"Don't you all look relaxed." Honolulu PD detective Sean Harrison chuckled, to big grins from the agents. "Bucklin, what happened to your mustache?"

"JD happ'n'd," Vin answered for the explosives expert, who just made a face at them all when they were laughing.

"So, what do you got for us?" Chris asked.

"Well, we went looking with the picture of 'Jolene Garrett' you sent us," NCIS agent Richard Owens replied. "Better known here and in Denver as 'Karen Conicello.' She took a job as a teacher as a front. That's why your Rebekah Lawrence thought she seemed familiar. Conicello substitute teaches in the high school Lawrence teaches at."

"And Beckie didn't recognize her?" JD exclaimed.

"The school's got 4000 kids and tons of teachers, JD," Kate pointed out.

"This is the real Karen Conicello," Harrison replied, holding up a photo. "This is her picture from when she taught in a private school in Hawaii."

"Who's our fake Conicello...a.k.a. Jolene Garrett? And why so many aliases?"

"Her real name Rhonda Carpenter," Owens replied. "She was a dropout from Marines training. We're guessing she took over Conicello's life to get into Denver - the real Conicello had been scheduled to move to Denver - and took the Garrett persona to keep anybody from finding her on the military personnel database."

"Under the name Rhonda Carpenter," Harrison continued, "she's a pretty famous con artist and one-time killer. Her specialty - disguises. She can make herself look like anybody."

"And the woman whose life she took over - the one whose identity she stole?"

"We found the real Karen Conicello burned to a crisp," Harrison explained. "She was killed and then dumped in a volcano."

"Original." Tony winced.

"Our question is," Harrison cut in, "how did they plan so far ahead?"

"Agent Chia Head over at the FBI," Buck snorted in disgust. "The FBI had already been in talks with Garcia to help them out, and Verucchi made sure to set up Lawrence and Bickerstaff - among others - to take the fall. She almost did, too, without knowing it."

* * *

"Lunch!" Josiah boomed as he and JD came in with bags; as if he needed announcing, as the smell of Chinese food had preceded them into the bullpen. They were mobbed when they came in.

Tony swallowed a little bit as he looked around. He'd forgotten to ask for a fork. "Do you have any forks?" suddenly came Kate's voice. Tony looked up gratefully at her.

"Sure - we got community silverware in the kitchen," Nathan replied, directing her to the kitchen.

Arraignments had taken place all morning; statements from the two marshals, from Kate, from Mary. Verucchi, 'Garrett,' and the shooter masquerading as a US Marshal were more than happy to sell each other out; Verucchi, when he realized how close he was to a serious sentence, ratted out Hopewell. Garcia's letters and emails were entered into evidence, with his simple hiring by Horace enough to land both that advisor and the governor behind bars for a long while.

"Apparently Verucchi thought he wouldn't be caught and hadn't taken the time to dispose oF the evidence," Abby was explaining. "The stuff you got from searching his house was the jackpot. All the blood on the motel pillows and the motel sheets - blood matched Garcia's."

"And the box of listening devices we found?"

"All from Lawrence's house. He had the whole place wired to record her voice."

"That is so sick," Buck muttered. "Was he taping the woman in her house, too?" he asked in disgust.

Abby shook her head. "He was working to frame her; he wasn't a peeping tom type. From the time stamps, I'd wager...there was maybe three or four months' worth of tape."

"You'd 'wager'?" Gibbs repeated, an eyebrow raised.

All eyes turned to Ezra. "Well," came the cultured drawl, "I am delighted some of my qualities have appeared to influence my colleagues."

"Y'know, Katie," Buck said charmingly, apparently having decided to try with Kate one more time, "I can always teach you to use chopsticks. See," he began, moving to take her hand, "you just - "

"I know how to use chopsticks, Agent Wilmington," Kate replied with a pretended smile plastered on her face, "and my name is Kate." She smiled sweetly at him as his teammates snorted in laughter.

"Kate sixteen, Buck zero," JD announced with a huge grin and dodged a head cuff from Buck.

"You know, though," Buck continued, entirely undaunted by the rejection, "That's one of the best lines ever."

JD groaned, burying his head in his hands. "Buck, no one wants to hear this."

"Lemme guess, kid," Vin drawled, his eyes twinkling. "Did Buck try ta teach ya this?"

JD glared at his roommate. "Casey hit me in the chest."

"Ya ain't got my animal magnetism, kid," Buck replied cheerily. "I've taught a few women to use chopsticks. You hold their left hand with the food, and just wrap your arm right around them gorgeous shoulders like this." He demonstrated as all his teammates groaned loudly, throwing wadded up napkins at him, trying to get him to be quiet. "And ya lean down ta whisper in - "

"Mr. Wilmington." The cultured Southern drawl rose about the loud groans. "Please cease and desist. I am having enough trouble stomaching this MSG-infested thing you call food without having to listen to your disgusting attempts at charming the fairer sex."

"Of course, it's even better if they know how to use 'em. You just put on 'em puppy dog eyes and say it's real embarrassing that you don't know how to use chopsticks, and they just their soft arms around - "

The groans got louder, and more paper wads flew. Tony, however, looked at Buck with newfound awe. "That is the best idea I have ever heard," he breathed, shaking his head in amazement. "Why didn't I think of it? That is PURE genius!"

Buck grinned wide, throwing an arm around Tony. "Hang 'round me, and I'll show you the world."

"You'll corrupt the young man," Ezra corrected.

"Pigs! I work with pigs," Kate exclaimed.

Larabee turned to his counterpart with an amused expression as they stopped in the doorway. "How do you keep Kate on your team? Or any woman, for that matter."

"Hey!" Buck and Tony protested together.

"Yes, Gibbs," Kate replied. An amused look on her face, she turned to look at him. "I'd like to know how you think you keep women on your team."

Gibbs looked down at her briefly as the others continued their arguing. A tiny smile quirked at the corner of his lips, barely noticeable. "Me," he suggested, his smile widening, his eyes teasing as he continued on to pick up his food.

Kate's mouth fell open in protest. "Gibbs!"

* * *

TRAVIS HOME, A FEW EVENINGS LATER

The sun was beginning to set, splashing the sky with reds and purples against the mountains in the distance. A few little lightning bugs had ventured out, much to the delight of the smallest Travis, who had abandoned his privileged spot riding on the sniper's shoulders to run after the small lights for awhile. The dusk rang with the shouts of the male agents playing touch football.

Ducky finally got up from his chair and moved into the kitchen, overlooking the huge backyard. Sure enough, he found his oldest friend standing over the sink, watching out of the big window. "I thought I might find you here," he said quietly, smiling.

Orin turned, returning the smile. "I understand you and Nathan turned Garcia's body over to the Marines for burial this afternoon."

The ME nodded. "We've done all the work we had to do. There wasn't any reason left not to have him properly buried. It would be rather disrespectful, considering his service - even in his death."

The director nodded and was silent for a moment. "Did Lawrence see him?"

"She came today; Nathan and Vin didn't call her until we had finished cleaning Garcia up entirely." Ducky paused a moment, then answered Orin's unasked question. "She took it all right. I'm afraid the reality of the situation has not hit her yet."

Orin nodded, and the two fell into a peaceful silence. It felt almost strange to the assistant director to be here again like this, Ducky visiting his family. He could almost see Stephen in - sorrow seized him for a second, and the man swallowed hard and tried to divert his old friend's attention. "Do you realize how long it's been since we both were ever on the same case? Over twenty years, and that was a one-time job."

"And forty years last September when we first began working together," Ducky nodded.

Orin nodded, his eyes twinkling. "You've certainly become more chatty."

Ducky laughed. "And I never thought I would see the day when you would deny a well-dressed agent an agency reimbursement on a ruined suit. Our late boss must be laughing in his grave."

"Standish," Orin hmphed, but smiled even as he shook his head. Both men looked outside. Chris was working on another wooden toy for the child, and Billy, who was sitting in his mother's lap, was leaning over to watch in fascination. McGee missed a pass, the football bouncing to a stop at Gibbs' feet.

"Throw it!" JD hollered, and Gibbs obliged with a spiral that brought whoops and cheers from the others. It flew over their heads and bounced on the grass erratically. The agents running after it ended up in a huge pile on top, which in turn prompted more loud chastising from Nathan about getting hurt and being more careful.

Ducky and Orin both winced. "I don't know whether or not to be worried or proud that these men are in charge now," the latter muttered.

Ducky laughed. "That's not ours to worry about anymore, Orin. Come now, just enjoy the ride. After all, what do we have to lose, except our boredom - "

Orin smiled at his oldest friend, his eyes twinkling. " - or our lives?"

_END_

Thanks to all of you who managed to stick it out to the end:-) Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
